Casting Down Angels
by Garbage and City Lights
Summary: Sequel to 'Suffer the Children'. PLEASE read the former before reading this. Micah's out of the hospital and has found a home... but how long will the happiness last? He gets the answer when he meets Gabe's childhood friend: a boy named Jeremiah. Jea
1. The Boy Next Door

--Heh! How long did it take me to start the sequel after I'd finished the first one? ...not very long! Okay, CotC and Micah aren't mine. I own everything else... except the mentions of Vitameatavegamin and Cujo. But for the rest of these characters... I want PERMISSION before you use them! Heh, like anyone would use my characters. Okay, I'm done. Really. Just read!--  
  
_Refuse to feel  
Anything at all  
Refuse to slip  
Refuse to fall  
You can't be weak  
You can't stand still  
You watch your back  
'Cause no one will  
--_from _Simon _by Lifehouse  
  
Voices echoed in his sleep-hazed head.  
("Micah... did you see what happened?")  
("Some of it.")  
He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, hands going over his ears to block them out.  
("What?")  
("My parents.")  
The boy, face shadowed by the flickering light from the television, pressed his fists harder against his ears. The voices weren't going away.  
("You saw what happened to them?")  
("I saw the corn.")  
He growled in frustration and turned his attention to the T.V. program. On it, Lucille Ball was having trouble pronouncing the name of some vitamin product. He could ignore them. Then they'd go away.  
("What, what? Were they out in the cornfield?")  
"Shut _up,"_ he snapped, but the memory went on.  
("There was blood for the corn.")  
_"Stop it!"_ he shrieked, and hurled a throw pillow at the television. It hit the screen and bounced off dully. Lucy was undaunted; she continued her bumbling endorsement, much to the delight of the laugh track.  
"Micah?" The voice came from behind. He whirled and saw the girl standing in the doorway, looking worried. "Who are you talking to?" The girl in baggy, cherry-covered pajamas and fuzzy slippers was the one person worth seeing this late at night. He relaxed.  
"No one," he said, and blushed. Micah knew very well that she'd see right through his lie, just like she always did.  
"Why are you up so late? It's nearly 2 a.m." Gabe chose to ignore the less-than-artful dodging of the truth and sat on the couch beside him. His wheelchair, he noted bitterly, wasn't as comfortable as the sofa looked.  
"I suppose I should ask you the same question," he mumbled, glancing at her not yet rumpled pajamas with the arch of a brow. Lucy must've done something quite hilarious, because the television audience roared. Gabe leaned over and turned it down.  
"Couldn't sleep," she said simply. Micah stuck up his chin arrogantly.  
"Well, then. There's your answer." The girl rolled her eyes and tweaked his nose.  
"You're so cranky when you don't get sleep, you know that?" He swatted at her fingers with a frustrated growl.  
"Am not!" Gabe sighed, sounding like a patient adult dealing with a fussy child.  
"Calm down, love," she murmured, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. "I was only joking." Micah glanced at the television, where Lucy had finally zonked out due to an overdose of her beloved Vitameatavegamin.  
"I _am _calmed down," he muttered. Then, reconsidering, he leaned to meet her hand and rubbed his cheek against it. "Just tired."  
"Then go to sleep." Gabe smiled and hauled herself to her feet. "Seems the obvious thing to do."  
"I'm watching television," Micah countered, and that was a flat-out lie. He no longer cared about Lucy or if she sold any of that stupid vitamin. He knew what would happen if he fell asleep -- there wouldn't just be voices, there would be pictures to go along with them. And as far as he was concerned, a horror movie was half as scary with just the sound.  
"No you're not." She leaned over and switched off the TV with a flick of the wrist, then disappeared into the darkness behind him. "I think you're going to bed." Micah snorted in surprise, twisting to see her.  
"Gabe!" Her hands clamped down on the handles of his wheelchair and began to push him down the hall.  
"Come on, Micah." Gabe's voice was in his ear, whispering and sending warm little puffs of air down his neck. "I can tell you're exhausted. You're pale enough to rival Johnny Depp, and if those bags under your eyes get any bigger your head will fall into them."  
"Not funny," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest sulkily.  
"Who said I was joking?" She opened the door to his room and wheeled him inside. "Hold out your arms." Micah glared up at her as she slid back into view, but found himself unable to argue. Her blue eyes always did that to him. He sighed in defeat and held out his arms. Gabe lifted him from the chair with a grunt, setting him gently on the bed. She covered him quickly with the black comforter. If her plan was to prevent him from seeing his sad excuses for legs, she failed, because he always caught a glimpse of those hated stumps. _Always_.  
"Fine." Micah gripped the blankets loosely, pulling them up to his chin. Gabe grinned and sat on the edge of the bed.  
"Changed your mind?" When there wasn't any reply -- just a sullen pout -- she brushed his hair away from his eyes tenderly. "You're really cute when you pooch your lips out like that, you know?" He bit back a smile.  
"Oh?" Gabe nodded a little, leaning close and pressing her forehead to his.  
"Yes. Adorable." Then she started forward for a kiss. Micah snickered and pulled the blankets over his head. Gabe let out an indignant squeak. "Hey!" She leaned away, frowning at the lump beneath the black comforter. "Not fair. C'mon, Micah, I'm tired."  
"Nope," he said, voice muffled by the blankets. Gabe began poking at the shape, muttering.  
"Get up." Micah yelped and popped his head out in surrender.  
"First you want me to go to sleep, now you want me to get up? Make up your mind!" She grinned and leaned close again.  
"Gonna kiss me or--" She didn't get to finish; he pressed his lips to hers gently. It lasted for a long moment until Gabe pulled away. She blinked at him, and it was satisfying to see surprise on her face for once. "Oh." Micah smirked and stroked her lips lightly with a finger.  
"Hm. Worth the wait?" Gabe kissed his fingertip, then stood.  
"Goodnight, Micah," she murmured, heading towards the door.  
" 'Night," he whispered back. The girl turned, smiled gently, and put her hand on the knob.  
"Sleep well, love." A pull was given and the door closed.  
"Yeah," Micah muttered, burying his face in his pillow. "I'm sure." But surprisingly, there was only one voice that echoed through the darkness before he surrendered to sleep. Only one memory, only one sentence, but it was just as painful as a whole speech. It was his own voice that cut through the silence of his mind like a knife, and it cut deeply.  
("There was blood for the corn.")  
  
Edith woke him up, and Micah had a strong sense of deja-vu.  
(Okay, here's where I open my eyes and get told that I've been in a coma for 4 months.)  
"Morning, dearie!" The plump woman waved cheerily at the drowsy boy, who rubbed his eyes.  
"Mmph. What time is it?"  
"Nine o'clock. I'd fix you breakfast, but I know you don't like it." She scurried over and threw open the curtains, letting in light. He repressed the urge to cover his eyes and hiss.  
"Right," Micah mumbled sleepily.  
(And now she tells me I don't have any legs.)  
Edith produced some clothes from the closet.  
"I couldn't find much in black like you wanted, but I did my best." She held a black t-shirt that read 'I'm multi-talented -- I can talk and piss you off at the same time' and a pair of black jeans.  
"Charming." Micah forced a smile. Edith bustled towards him and laid the clothes on the bed.  
"Sorry about the shirt. It was my son's." Before he could ask questions, she'd sighed and went on. "He's older now. He moved out a while ago." There was a pause.  
"Oh." He looked down at the clothes, ready to strike up small talk, and realized something. The jeans weren't just jeans. They'd been cut off a little below the knee and pinned under to close the holes.  
(And here's where I have a nervous breakdown.)  
"Here, let me help you." Edith pulled the blankets to the end of the bed and immediately stripped him of his nightshirt. Micah tried not to blush -- she'd done this before, after all -- but it was still embarrassing. There wasn't much time to be sheepish, because she ordered, "Arms up," and slid the new shirt over his head. It nearly hung off of him, he noted dully.  
"Thanks. I think I can manage the pants on my own, though," Micah said, hoping it would leave him a bit of his dignity. Edith looked skeptical, but nodded.  
"All right. Call me when you're done and I'll help you back into your chair." He cracked a grin that he hoped was smooth.  
"Sure thing, Edith." The woman winked and bustled out, leaving him to stare at the new challenge.  
  
When he finally called Edith back in, Micah had spent fifteen minutes trying to put on his pants. It made him angry that it should take so long, and then it made him even angrier when he glimpsed how his legs looked in the pinned-off jeans. It wasn't fair, he observed bitterly as Edith heaved him from the bed to the chair. But then again, not much was.  
"Gabe's outside," she told him after he'd brushed his teeth and hair. Those things took considerably less time, thank God. At least some things stayed the same.  
"Gotcha. I think I'll go join her." Micah flashed her another smooth smile and headed out through the front door. Someone had put a large board of wood on the front step, much to his relief, so he braced himself and slid the chair down the makeshift ramp. He nearly skidded into the lawn -- he still wasn't quite used to the wheelchair yet -- but his fingers found the brake in time and he swerved towards the driveway. Gabe sat there in a lawn chair, a book titled 'Cujo' sitting in her lap. Micah smiled and wheeled towards her... then stopped.  
  
There was a boy behind her.  
  
He was hanging over her shoulder casually, leaning against the lawn chair. The boy's frame was slender, but sturdy, the kind that track stars are blessed with. His boyishly handsome face was next to Gabe's, forest green eyes peering at the book in her lap from beneath bangs of shaggy brown hair. He mumbled something inaudible, pointing at the pages. Gabe snickered and pushed his face away with the palm of her hand. Micah felt a strong, instant hate for the boy -- then swallowed to repress the anger.  
(He's just a friend of hers. Just a friend.)  
Biting back the bitter taste of jealousy, he forced a smile.  
"Gabe," he called, wheeling faster towards her. She looked up and grinned.  
"Hey, Micah!" Gabe started to get up, but he shook his head and pushed his chair quickly towards her. She looked over her shoulder at the boy, who was staring at Micah with not-quite-concealed curiousity.  
(Go on, stare. See what it gets you, you bastard.)  
"Micah, this is Jeremy Spencer. He lives next door to us." She motioned at the house beside theirs. "Jeremy, this is--"  
"Jeremiah," the boy corrected. Gabe stopped and frowned, looking confused.  
"You never told me your name was really Jeremiah," she said quietly. Jeremiah shrugged, an apologetic grin on his tanned face.  
"Sorry."  
"Sorry?" Gabe echoed, sounding a little peeved. Then she turned back to Micah. "Anyway, this is Micah Balding. I told Jeremy--" She faltered and corrected herself. "--_Jeremiah _all about you."  
"All good, I hope?" asked Micah, lacing his hands pleasantly in his lap. The boy looked at him again, and Micah caught his green eyes flick to the pinned-off jeans.  
(I'll gouge your eyes out of your head if you keep looking at me like that.)  
"Interesting," Jeremiah said as he stuck his own hands in his pockets. "It was really interesting." He rocked back and forth on his sneakers, almost deliberately, and Micah felt another pang of bitter anger. Feeling the need to retaliate, he began fiddling with the silver angel around his neck. Gabe noted this and smiled warmly, closing her book.  
(Yeah, take that. Shouldn't you be off posing for Teen Beat, pretty boy?)  
"Nice to meet you, then," Micah said politely. Jeremiah nodded.  
"Same t' you. It's great to finally meet the famous Micah." That sentence sounded wrong for some reason; Micah shot a look at Gabe.  
"Famous?" The girl scowled and gave Jeremiah an elbow in the gut.  
"Nothing." Jeremiah made a little 'oof' noise and crossed his arms over his stomach.  
"I was just joking!" he said indignantly. Gabe looked back at Micah.  
"Hey, did you get breakfast?" she asked, and he had the distinct feeling she was changing the subject.  
"Not hungry." Micah didn't want to press for information today. He was too tired out from the events of a week ago. "Good book?" Now _he _was changing the subject, and Gabe jumped on it readily.  
"Yeah, great!" She showed him the cover -- it was a the face of a snarling St. Bernard, dripping with foam and obscured by fog. Micah forced a smile.  
"Lovely." Jeremiah, pushing brown hair away from his eyes, frowned a little.  
"Hey, Gabe," he piped up, "y'wanna go to the mall today? I hear they've got--"  
"No thanks, Jer." She lowered the book and shot Micah a smile. "I've got some stuff around the house I need to tend to."  
(HAH! Take THAT, you Johnathan Taylor Thomas wanna-be!)  
"Oh." Jeremiah frowned again, looking a little wounded, then recovered with a boyish grin. "Eh, I'll see you later, then. Dad wants me to mow the grass." He turned to Micah and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Nice meeting you."  
"Yeah," Micah said, rubbing at his shoulder. It was supposed to be friendly, but the little punch had been hard enough to hurt. Jeremiah looked back at Gabe.  
"And I want that book when you're done."  
"Sure thing," she said with a wink. The boy waved, then turned and bounded next door. Micah and Gabe watched. "That went well," she murmured.  
"Mm hm," he said absently, glaring after Jeremiah. Gabe turned back to him and covered a smirk with her hand.  
"Gee, silly me. And I was worried you'd be jealous." Micah blinked, then wiped away the scowl quickly.  
"Me? Jealous?" He flashed a big smile, but his hand went up to fiddle worriedly with the angel around his neck. "Never."   



	2. "Carve Out Her Heart."

--...I own Gabe, Jeremiah, Edith, and the storyline. Nothing else. Some of the quotes are from Children of the Corn 2, not owned by me either, which I found on Dominick's site. Much appreciated.--  
  
_I hate the world today  
You're so good to me  
I know that I can't change  
I try to tell you, but you look at me like maybe  
I'm an angel underneath  
Innocent and sweet  
--_from _Bitch _by Meredith Brooks  
  
Gabe folded up the lawn chair and tucked the book under her arm.  
"Y'wanna go inside?" Micah shrugged a little, finally tearing his eyes from the door where Jeremiah had disappeared.  
"I don't care. What do you want to do?" She paused, then turned and headed for the garage.  
"Here. I'll get us each a soda and we can go for a walk, okay?"  
(Well, there might be a problem there...)  
He kept the morbid joke to himself.  
"Sure. Coke, please." Gabe returned with the sodas, handed them to Micah, and took the handles of the wheelchair.  
"I'm going to push you down the driveway, okay? You can do the rest yourself, but I'd rather get you down the hill first." She snickered into her hand, slowly inching down the slanted concrete. "Mrs. Pheeny wouldn't be pleased to see you lying face-first in her daisies."  
"You think that's funny?" asked Micah threateningly, shaking one of the sodas slightly. She raised her eyebrows at him as they went over the bump at the end of the driveway.  
"That's yours now."  
"Sure," he said, rolling his eyes. The girl slowed a little, turning, and began forward on the smooth street.  
"Hand me a soda, would you?" she asked as she peered at something in one of the front lawns that dotted the sides of the road. Micah snickered, ready to take his opportunity on the unwary Gabe. She was apparently focused on a chocolate-colored dog in front of a brick house. "Hey, Charlie!" she crooned, waving. The dog barked and wagged its tail happily. Micah handed her the shaken-up can of Coke and grinned. Gabe glanced at him with a smile. "Thanks."  
"No problem," he said cheerfully, and opened his soda. With a pop and a fizz, brown bubbles exploded from the can and splattered Micah's face. He sputtered, nearly dropping it. The girl wasn't even surprised; she just tapped the top of hers a few times and opened it. No explosion. She took a drink.  
"Nice try," said Gabe smugly. "I took the precaution of shaking them both up."  
  
Once Micah had wiped the sticky Coke off of his face, they started up again. Gabe leaned casually on the back of his wheelchair, pushing it slowly so he could have his hands free to drink his soda.  
"Over there's where Mr. Wagner lives. He doesn't talk to anyone." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "He does yell at the paperboy, though..."  
"Sounds pleasant." Micah took a careful sip and pointed at another house. "What about there?" The girl made a face.  
"Liz and Brandy Mullins. They're total preps and complete bitches. Steer clear of them." He watched the house disappear past them.  
"Sounds like your entire neighborhood is antisocial," Micah said mildly, turning the can slowly in his hands. He paused, then ventured, "Except Jeremiah."  
"Yeah." Gabe nodded. "He's cool. I've known him for a long time, ever since we were in grade school." She frowned a little. "I still don't understand about his name. I've _always _called him Jeremy."  
"Maybe it's sort of like Prince," Micah said helpfully. "You know, the guy formerly known as Jeremy?" Gabe blinked at him, then snickered and tousled his black hair.  
"Smart ass."  
"Thank you. I wear that title with pride." They reached the end of the street and began to turn around when he glimpsed the house. He twisted to see it. "Hey, wait, go back!"  
"What?" Gabe looked over her shoulder, turning the wheelchair slowly around. "Grimm Defeat?" Micah looked up, confused.  
"Huh?" She eyed the house warily.  
"The people who lived there before were the Grimms. They left and no one wanted the house, so it just sorta... fell apart. A Grimm Defeat." Gabe grinned and bent to lean closer to his face. "Yeah, we've got everything. Cranky old man, all-American boy, and now the delipidated wreck."  
"Is it haunted?" Micah asked, smirking. She looked at him and arched a brow.  
"I don't know. Would you like to see for yourself?"  
"Not particularly." He turned his attention back to the house. It was a huge old thing, two or three floors at the least. The shingles were falling off. The paint was chipped and peeling, and even a few windows had been broken. It was the perfect 'haunted' house. "Grimm Defeat," Micah murmured, deciding he liked the sound of it.  
"If you're so fascinated with it," Gabe said suddenly, turning the chair around, "I'll drop you off after dinner and you can stay there all night." He blinked in surprise and shook his head.  
"Nah, that's all right." There was a short pause, then she bent to whisper in his ear.  
"Wanna go for a ride?" Micah glanced at her, confused, then let out a yelp of surprise as Gabe started running. Houses passed with surprising speed and the ground beneath him turned into a blur. It was terrifying at first, but once he stopped gripping the arms of his chair for dear life, the ride was sort of fun. "Hold on!" she whooped, swerving into the driveway. His hair was whipped back from his face as they hit a blast of wind, and suddenly it was all over. The chair was still, his hair stayed in place, and Gabe was panting.  
"What was that?" Micah asked dimly, finally letting go of the armrests. She laughed breathlessly.  
"I don't know. But it was fun, wasn't it?" Gabe set the brake on his chair and lowered her face to his. He smiled a little, then nodded.  
"Yeah. Pretty fun." She grinned good-naturedly and planted a kiss on the top of his head.  
"C'mon. Let's go inside. We have things to tend to." Micah raised his eyebrows.  
"We do?"  
"I'm sure we could find something that needs tending," Gabe said, giving him a suggestive grin. Unable to contain a smile of his own, he chuckled quietly.  
"Well, when you put it that way..." She unlocked the brake and plowed the wheelchair forward.  
"Onward, ho!" Gabe cried, and charged up the makeshift ramp.  
  
They rocketed down the hallway towards Gabe's room.  
"One small step for man," she giggled. He finished for her with a snicker.  
"One giant leap for me!"  
"Stop right there." Micah and Gabe both jumped; she swerved and turned the wheelchair around.  
"What, Edith?" she asked, not quite concealing the disappointment in her voice. The chubby woman held a small bottle in her hand. Both teenagers sighed mentally.  
"Micah has to take his medicine," Edith informed them sternly, advancing. "And you know how it tires him out, so you'd better leave him to rest." She took the wheelchair from Gabe, who moaned in protest.  
"Ee-_dith," _she complained, and Micah looked up at the plump woman.  
"If you want, I'll go lay down. But if it's okay, I'd like to have Gabe in there to talk to me -- for just a little while," he added hurriedly. Edith pursed her lips and glanced between the two, then sighed in defeat.  
"All right, seems fair. Here." She quickly spooned out some of the sticky liquid and held it towards Micah, who swallowed it. He made a face. It _always _tasted disgusting. Gabe had perked up; she reclaimed the wheelchair.  
"Great. I'll come out after he's fallen asleep and help with lunch, 'kay?"  
"Of course, Gabe dear," Edith said pleasantly, bustling back towards the living room. "I'll be watching my soaps if you need me."  
"Fat chance," Gabe whispered in his ear, and Micah covered a snicker with his hand. She opened the door to his room and slipped in quickly.  
"God, I hate that stuff," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.  
"Hits you pretty hard, huh?" The girl had appeared before him and was now looking at him sympathetically.  
"Yeah." He didn't even need to be told; Micah lifted his arms and was immediately hoisted into the bed. He reached down for the comforter and pulled it up to his waist -- he wasn't cold, just didn't like his legs constantly displayed. Gabe settled on the edge of the bed, then reconsidered. With a grunt, she laid down on the mattress beside Micah and turned on her side to look at him.  
"Sorry you have to keep taking it," she murmured once she was situated, "but Dr. Phillips said you only have a week or so left of the prescription, so it's almost over." Micah was silent for a moment, looking at her face.  
(Oh, those blue _eyes...)_  
Then he smiled.  
"Well, parts of it aren't so bad," he whispered, touching the tip of her nose lightly. Gabe grinned and nestled a little closer.  
"I agree." She scooched forward even more, ducking her head under his so her hair brushed the underside of his chin. "You sleepy yet?"  
"A little." Micah felt her lean her face against his collarbone. When she stopped moving, he gently curled an arm around Gabe and let out a little breath of air.  
"Then go ahead," she murmured to his neck, sounding a little tired herself. "Go to sleep. I'll stay here for a little while."  
"That's what you said in the hospital," mumbled Micah as his eyelids drooped, "and you remember how that turned out."  
"Well, there's no one here to get angry at us if I _do_ fall asleep, so I've got nothing to lose." Gabe fell silent and began tracing the letters on his shirt. He let his eyes close.  
"Mmn." She paused, then leaned her forehead against his neck.  
"Sleep well, Micah," she whispered. "No bad dreams." Micah didn't answer; he drifted into a light sleep. Had he stayed awake just a few moments longer, he would've heard Gabe add, "I love you."  
  
_He smiled at the girl bound on the bed of cornstalks.  
"You little bastard!" she shrieked, but there was more fear there than anger. He gave her a cold sneer.  
"First cut out her tongue. Then when her pitiful protestations are silenced, CARVE OUT HER HEART!" The Children nodded their assent, but said nothing. The woman beside the girl shook her bonds worriedly.  
"For God's sake, Danny!" she cried, but he knew Danny wouldn't listen. Danny was one of them now.  
"Each drop of their blood shall nourish the seeds of new life," he murmured, turning to Danny. "Let the new harvest begin." But Danny wasn't there. Gabe was there instead.  
"Do you really think you should be doing this?" She had her arms crossed over her chest and her head tipped knowingly. "I don't think it's such a good idea." Anger filled him, hot and racing. How dare she defy his word!  
"Infidel," he whispered. "Do you challenge me?" Gabe snorted, covering her mouth with her hand.  
"God, you sound like one of those TV evangelists. Give it up, Micah. This isn't right, and you know it." He stared at her, the anger dying down. She sounded like she knew what she was talking about... Then a voice whispered in his ear.  
"You know what to do." He nodded, then smiled. Yes, he knew what to do. He turned to the Children and held up his hands for silence.  
  
"First cut out her tongue. Then when her pitiful protestations are silenced, CARVE OUT HER HEART!"  
  
_"Micah, Micah! Wake up, wake up, you're having a nightmare!" He jolted out of the bad dream and found himself staring into Gabe's worried face.  
(she's going to open her mouth to talk but she won't be able to talk because she'll have no tongue)  
"Honey," she murmured, stroking his face lightly. "You were thrashing around and screaming about insubordination." Her eyes squinted a little. "Are you all right?"  
(and there's a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be)  
"Fine," Micah mumbled, and was surprised to find that he was out of breath. He looked up at Gabe -- and for one long, horrible moment, she was just as he imagined: no tongue, no heart, bathed in a thin sheen of blood. Then Gabe was Gabe again. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her fingers for comfort. "No," he gasped, breath quickening again, "No, not fine. Bad."  
"Oh, honey," she whispered. Gabe bent forward and held him tightly. Micah just buried his face in her shoulder -- her blessedly blood-free shoulder -- and exhaled shakily.  
"I'd never do that." He was mumbling before he knew it, and found himself unable to stop. "I'd never do that, never, I promise, I promise--"  
"Shh." Gabe tightened her embrace. "I believe you." Micah squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax. Because even though he said he'd never hurt her, he no longer trusted himself.  
  
And that frightened him.  



	3. The Legless Wonder

--...blah blah blah. Glad to see there are more Children of the Corn fans around lately. I like writing even more when I know people are reading! I own Gabe, Edith, and Jeremiah. STILL don't own Children of the Corn or Micah, but I plan on stealing the latter... I'll put on a black ski mask, sneak into Stephen King's house, and snatch Micah right out of the closet! MWA HA! ...this chapter was brought to you by a can of Pepsi One and an arsenal of wild cherry Lifesavers.--  
  
_I would change myself if I could  
I would walk with my people if I could find them  
And I'd say I'm sorry to you  
I'm sorry to you  
--_from _Deep Inside Of You _by Third Eye Blind  
  
Edith popped her head into the room.  
"Kids, lunch is ready--" She stopped abruptly when she saw Micah. "What's wrong?"  
"He had another nightmare," murmured Gabe, stroking his hair tenderly. He held back the tears and let out another shuddery sigh.  
"I'm fine," he mumbled. She layed a light kiss on his ear.  
"You just said you weren't." Gabe hugged him gently. "To quote you: 'Not fine. Bad.' "  
"I'm okay now. Really."  
"I'll go get you a glass of water," Edith said helpfully and scurried out before he could object.  
"I don't know why everyone is so shook up," Micah cried, jerking out of Gabe's arms. "It's just--"  
"Worse than last time." Her voice was quiet as she sat back on the bed. "Micah, you need to understand. I know these dreams scare you, and that they must be horrible, but I just want to help." She leaned forward a little and put a hand against his face.  
"You're right," he said softly, glancing away. "They _are _horrible." Gabe stared at him, blue eyes full of concern, then turned to take the glass of water from Edith. "Thanks." She held it out towards Micah. "Drink it."  
"Yes, dear," insisted Edith, "it's for the best." He glared at it, then took the water and sipped. Gabe watched while he did so, pushing his hair away from his forehead.  
"Better?" Micah glanced at her over the rim of the cup.  
"Sort of," he mumbled. Edith piped up.  
"When he's feeling better, Gabe dear, bring him out into the kitchen. Lunch is ready." She gave them both a reassuring smile and scurried out. Gabe turned her attention back to him.  
"Do you want to tell me what it was about?" Micah shot her a look that he felt was darker than necessary.  
"Not really," he muttered, then took another sip. The water helped a little; he shifted uncomfortably. "Well... I suppose I could." She nodded, looking pleased, and put a hand on the back of his neck.  
"Go on."  
(Omit certain things, mind you. She doesn't need to know _all _of it.)  
Micah drained the rest of the water and set the glass on the nightstand.  
"I was in the cornfield," he began, embarrassed that his voice was already shaking. "There were... there were people there, and I was going to do something bad to them. Then you showed up." Gabe's brows twitched a little.  
"And?" Micah's fingers started fiddling idly with the angel necklace. It was personal, but he felt he could share it with her -- at least, he hoped.  
"You... you told me to stop, that it was wrong, and then I said something I wish I hadn't."  
"Is that all?" Gabe sat back, looking relieved. "You had a dream that you yelled at me?"  
(don't tell her don't tell her _don't you dare)  
_" 'Cut out her tongue, then carve out her heart.' " He said it quickly and quietly, almost as if he hoped she wouldn't hear. She heard, all right; Gabe's blue eyes widened.  
"That's what you said?" she asked in a small voice. Micah nodded meekly.  
"Yeah. Pretty much." He felt horrible, and he hated the look on her face, but she had pressed. It was her own fault.  
"Oh," Gabe murmured. She rubbed at her shoulder, eyes dropping. "Yeah, that sounds pretty bad."  
"Told you." Micah swallowed, suddenly nervous of her avoidance of eye contact. "Gabe," he said softly. "Gabe, look at me." She frowned slightly, then glanced up.  
"Are you mad at me?" asked Gabe in a tiny voice. He blinked in surprise.  
"What?" Micah echoed dully. Her fingers began drawing idle designs on the black bedspread.  
"Have-- have I done something wrong?" The boy blinked again and put an arm tentatively around her.  
"Why would you think so?" he murmured, brows furrowing in concern. Gabe swallowed thickly, but leaned into him.  
"Well, let's see," she mumbled, looking hurt, "you had a dream about cutting out my tongue and carving out my heart." Micah winced.  
"I didn't get that far," he muttered. Gabe didn't seem to hear; she hugged him hard.  
"Are you sure you're not mad?" He held her tightly -- for lack of a better thing to do -- and kissed her forehead.  
"Positive." The girl was quiet for a moment. It made Micah a bit uncomfortable, so he pressed his lips to her brow again. "Are _you _mad at _me?"  
_"No!" Gabe pulled away and flashed a grin. "Well, now that we have that figured out, how about some lunch?" Relief surged through him; he kissed her one more time and smiled.  
"Sounds great," Micah stated, ready to put the awful dream behind him. "What are we having?" She hesitated.  
"Corn dogs," she said meekly, and offered a little grin. He clapped a hand over his eyes with a groan.  
"Oh, not funny."  
  
Lunch went by quickly. They both downed the corndogs and gulped the milk, then retreated back into Gabe's room. It always felt comfortable in there, Micah noted. Her walls were a pale blue, and there wasn't much furniture: just a four poster bed and a computer desk. But it seemed that every memory Gabe had ever had was plastered on that desk. Pictures had been taped there, CDs stacked, books stashed. Papers were shoved in every crevice and candles dotted the shelves. As if to complete the look, a blue lava lamp rested on top of the desk. It was switched off.  
"Gimme a sec," said Gabe after she wheeled Micah next to the bed. She whirled and began digging around in the stacks of books. "I've got a book here somewhere that can help."  
"What, it cures insanity?" He smirked, but she shot him a dark look.  
"Don't kid." The girl shoved aside a few more books and seized a small one. "Ah, here we go: 'Dreams And What They Mean'." Micah blinked.  
"You're going to analyze my dream?"  
"Yup," Gabe said cheerfully, plopping cross-legged on her bed. He set the brake on his chair absently.  
"I should think the message would be pretty clear," he muttered, and that earned him another black glance.  
"Quiet. Okay--" She began flipping intently through the little book. "--you were in a cornfield? That's not in here." Micah scooted a little closer and peered over her shoulder.  
"Well, there were children there too," he offered helpfully. She shook her head.  
"No, it's not in here." Gabe turned the pages with dimming patience. "Anything else?"  
"Not really." Micah paused, then put his hand over hers gently. He flipped back to the beginning of the book, then pointed at the heading 'angel'. "There was an angel in my dream, though."  
"Really?" Gabe perked a little. He nodded and laced their fingers.  
"Yeah. I already said you were in it."  
(Oh my God. I've never heard anything so sappy...)  
But she seemed to like it. Gabe blushed a faint pink and smiled.  
"Thanks," she murmured. Micah stroked the side of her hand with his thumb.  
"S' the truth," he said with a shrug. Then, deciding he could use any help at all, he glanced down at the page and read. _When wicked people dream of angels it is a demand to repent; to good people, it should be a consolation.  
_(Well, there you have it. Satan's a'waitin', Micah my boy.)  
Gabe noticed the trail of his eyes and made a soft sound of reassurance.  
"Look." A tanned finger was poked at the page. "That's a good sign, right?" Micah glanced at her in surprise.  
"What, that I have to repent?" Now she looked startled.  
"No!" For emphasis, she jabbed again at the book. "See? 'It should be a consolation'." He paused, still taken aback, then chuckled quietly.  
"Poor thing," he said, ruffling her hair. "You're so confused." Gabe jerked away slightly.  
"Are you saying that you don't think you're a good person?" she asked with a slow frown. Micah opened his mouth to answer  
(_bad_ person bad bad _bad)  
_when she continued instead.  
"Micah," Gabe said softly, bringing up a hand to brush aside strands of his hair, "you have given me absolutely no reason to believe that you are anything less than a perfectly decent person." She smiled a little and slid a fingertip to the space between his eyebrows, where it stroked lightly. "And of course, in _my _eyes, you're a saint. But I don't think it's a completely unbiased opinion."  
"It's also a lie," he muttered, but couldn't help a smile. "A good one, but a lie all the same." The girl smirked and carressed the bridge of his nose one more time.  
"Stop beating yourself up." Gabe pulled her hand away and glanced at the window. The shade had been pulled down, even though the sun was brightly shining. "You're a beautiful person, Micah. You really are." Pausing, she reached over and put her hand on the cord. "So stop brooding in darkness and let in a little light." With a flick of the wrist, the shade went flying up and the room was bathed in a golden glow. It blinded Micah at first. He put up a hand to shield his eyes. In the light, Gabe really _did _look like an angel for a moment. Then his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and focused on the face in the window.  
  
It was Jeremiah.  
  
His tanned face was right there, pressed up against the glass as if it were the window of a candy store instead of a teenage girl's room. Green eyes flicked about between the two. He didn't even look surprised; the boy just pushed back shaggy brown bangs and kept staring in. Gabe shrieked in surprise when she saw him, then laughed shakily.  
"Jer!" she squeaked, unlocking and opening the window. "What are you _doing,_ you little freak?" The boy smiled pleasantly and leaned against the windowsill.  
"Waiting for you," he said casually. Jeremiah glanced at Micah, his face complacent and blank.  
(You little _bastard--)  
_"Nice to see you," said Micah politely.  
"Yeah, the same." Jeremiah turned his green-eyed gaze back to Gabe. "I finished mowing the lawn, so I took a shower and went to find you. Edith told me you were busy, and I knew something was up. I was just ready to knock on your window when you pulled up the blinds." She laughed again, but there was a distinct waver of nervousness.  
"God. Can't you be like normal people and use the door?" The boy grinned, flashing a mouthful of dazzling teeth.  
"Nope."  
(--_kill _you if you ever do that again--)  
"Normal's not interesting," said Micah with a smile he hoped would rival Jeremiah's. _"You_ should know that, Gabe."  
"Are you insinuating something?" she snickered, swatting his arm lightly. Jeremiah's grin flickered. He hoisted himself up on the sill and swung a leg inside.  
"So... what are you guys doing this afternoon?"  
(--god damned pretty boy, why don't you go--)  
Gabe sat back on the bed.  
"Micah's not feeling too well," she chirped with a shrug of her shoulders. "We'll probably watch a movie or something." Jeremiah swung the other leg into the room and sat nonchalantly on the sill.  
"Looks like he's feeling well to me," he said mildly, but Micah could've sworn there was a trace of venom in his voice. Now Gabe's eyes sharpened a little.  
"But you wouldn't know, would you, Jeremy?"  
(--perfect teeth and perfect hair and perfect eyes, makes me want to--)  
"Jeremiah," the boy corrected, looking a little on edge.  
"Right." Gabe pursed her lips a little. "You're in kind of a bad mood today. What's with you?"  
"Nothing," replied Jeremiah stiffly. Micah was taking a little pleasure in this minor argument, but not much -- Gabe looked just as irritated as Jeremiah, and that didn't settle well with him.  
"That's a really grumpy 'nothing'," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.  
(--Wally Cleaver impersonator, 'All American Prick'--)  
"Gabe," called Edith from somewhere in the hall, "can you come here a minute? I need your help on this recipe." The girl glanced away from Jeremiah.  
"Sure thing," she yelled back, pulling herself to her feet. "Be right back." Gabe flashed Micah a smile and trotted out into the hall. Jeremiah stared after her, the same complacently blank look on his face.  
"Don't hurry," he said quietly, and glanced at Micah. A quick chill slithered through him.  
(--why is he looking at me like that?)  
But Micah smiled pleasantly.  
"Hm. Now we're alone." Jeremiah stared back with almost disturbing coolness.  
"Indeed. And that's good," he murmured, leaning forward, "because I need a moment to speak with the Legless Wonder."  
_(...excuse_ me?)  
Micah blinked in surprise and simply stared, waiting for Jeremiah to go on. Because it was obvious that he was going to, and it was obvious it wasn't going to be small talk.


	4. Reluctant Sleep

--Another chapter written in the dead of night! I have to admit, parts of this were actually inspired by the opening song, which belongs to the artist listed. CotC and Micah belong to Stephen King, my mentor. I love you, sir! ...ahem, anyway. Edith, Jeremiah, and _especially_ Gabe are all mine. You may use them if you wish -- with my permisson, of course -- but it's much more fun to make your own. Now REVIEW, people, or I'll send out the flying monkeys!--  
  
_Everything's gonna be all right  
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye  
Everything's gonna be all right  
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye  
Rock-a-bye  
--_from _Lullaby _by Sean Mullins  
  
Jeremiah leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  
"I've been waiting for you to get out of the hospital," he said mildly, "because every other word out of Gabe's mouth was 'Micah' for about two weeks straight."  
"Glad to see she was thinking of me," Micah murmured, trying to keep his voice cool despite his clenched hands. "And did you just call me 'the Legless Wonder'?" Jeremiah ignored the question.  
"She hardly ever talks to me anymore."  
"How unfortunate for you." Micah wrapped his hands around the armrests of the wheelchair to keep them from punching Jeremiah square in the jaw. "I don't see what this has to do with me."  
"It's really very obvious," the boy explained calmly. "She's infatuated with you."  
_(Infatuated?_ You make it sound dirty, you little--)  
"Oh?" He forced a pleasant smile. Jeremiah nodded, the first few signs of unrest showing in him. He shifted on the windowsill.  
"Yes. She talks to me and I know she's thinking about you. She looks at me and I _know _she's seeing you--" Jeremiah stopped himself and dragged a hand through his mop of chestnut hair. "Look, all I'm saying is--"  
"Wait." Micah held up one hand, still containing his anger as best he could. It wasn't working well. "You said Gabe's infatuated with me. What makes you think that I don't feel the same way?" The boy paused, looking surprised. Then he offered a crooked smile that wasn't as boyish as the rest of his grins.  
"Let's just say I know more about you than you'd suspect. Gabe's not your type."  
(stupid idiotic _heartless _little pervert)  
Micah gripped the armrests again, his fingernails digging deeply into the plastic.  
_"Oh?"_ he said again, not even bothering to contain the edge on his voice. "And what exactly do you know about me?" Jeremiah kept smiling.  
"Now, now. We must save some conversation for later."  
(come on you little bastard bring it on)  
Micah opened his mouth to finally let loose his anger when Gabe slipped back in.  
"Sorry 'bout that. Edith needed--" She paused when she saw the look on Micah's face. Jeremiah was back to normal; the cunning smirk was a pleasant grin again. "What's wrong?" Jeremiah shrugged wordlessly. Micah shot him a dark look, then glanced back up to Gabe.  
"I don't feel very well," he said quietly, watching the figure in the corner of his vision stiffen a little. "Could I take you up on that movie offer? I think I should lie down." Her palm immediately went to his forehead.  
"Of course," Gabe murmured, pulling her hand back and running it over his hair. She turned to Jeremiah. "Sorry, Jer, but you'll have to go. He might need some more medicine." The boy on the windowsill shifted. Micah saw his face twitch a bit. Then it broke into a handsome grin.  
"Yeah, sure thing." Jeremiah swiveled and swung his legs outside. "See you both later." There was something in that last sentence that stung Micah's ears, but he didn't care. Jeremiah pushed off the sill and disappeared below the window. He stared after him, but Gabe had already unset the brake and turned Micah around.  
"C'mon. You get to pick what we watch." The words still echoed in his ears  
(Legless Wonder)  
("She's infatuated with you.")  
("She looks at me and I _know _she's seeing you.")  
("Let's just say I know more about you than you'd suspect.")  
and poked relentlessly at his mind. Micah shook his head and smiled unsurely at her.  
"Lead the way."  
  
"Come _on, _Micah. Can't you at least try to sleep?" He shook his head, clenched his teeth, and gripped the doorframe tightly.  
_"No." _Gabe pushed again from behind.  
"This is stupid and childish, Micah!" She grunted with the exertion. "Just go... to... bed!"  
"No!" Micah dug his nails into the wood. "You saw what happened last time. I'm not going to sleep!" Gabe stopped pushing and sighed in disgust.  
"You're being silly." She paused, then slid her arms around him from behind. "Come on, Micah. Be reasonable." Sensing a trap, he clutched the doorframe even tighter.  
"I don't want to sleep," he said, hearing a little whine creep into his voice. Gabe hugged him gently.  
"Please?" she murmured, and her voice sounded sincere. Then, suddenly, her hands slipped to his sides and tickled hard. Micah squeaked in surprise and snapped his arms down, giving Gabe the opportunity to shove him into the bedroom. The wheelchair rocketed forward, but she grabbed it in time to stop him from flying into the wall. Micah crossed his arms over his chest, defeated, and scowled.  
"I'm not going to bed," he repeated sullenly. Gabe sighed again and turned the chair slowly around to face her.  
"All right. All right." She gave him a small smile. "You wanna pull an all-nighter? Is that what you wanna do?" Micah nodded meekly, eyes downcast.  
"Yeah."  
(Anything to stop those dreams.)  
Gabe paused, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against his forehead.  
"Then I'll stay up with you." He looked up hopefully.  
"You will?" Micah murmured. She smiled, pushing his hair away from his face.  
"Naturally." Gabe disappeared behind him and began wheeling the chair to the living room. "With me, the phrase 'I'd kill for you' takes on a whole new meaning." The words made him wince, but she went on and didn't let him comment. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so I don't have to work at the hospital. We'll get comfy in the living room, watch some late-night TV, and pop open a couple of Cokes. We can be regular insomniacs together."  
"Really?" Micah twisted and glanced over his shoulder. "You sure?" Gabe grinned warmly.  
"Positive." She patted his arm as the wheelchair stopped beside the couch. "I'll go get the sodas. Be right back." The girl retreated into the kitchen. He smiled after her and settled back into his chair. The first few hours would be the hardest, but after that, it would get easier to stay awake.  
(And you have to. _No more dreams.)  
  
_6 hours went by slowly. Gabe had been positioned on the couch, Micah stiffly in his chair. Once the television reminder flashed 2:00 a.m., she had demanded that he move by her to be more comfortable. He refused. After an episode and a half of 'Three's Company', Micah had surrendered and been transferred over to the couch. Now they were both settled comfortably on the cushions; Gabe leaned an elbow against the armrest while he simply curled up beside her, pressing his cheek against her shoulder. It was 4:17 a.m., and sleep was beginning to claw at his eyes.  
"This is the most pointless show," muttered Micah, staring at the screen grumpily. On it, Archie Bunker was lecturing his son-in-law on something or other.  
"Is not!" Gabe protested. " 'All In The Family' is the best!" She paused, giggling at something that Archie said, and added, "Ya meathead."  
"You see that?" He jabbed a finger at Archie with a scowl. "He's a bad influence. Crazy old man." Gabe rolled her eyes and leaned her cheek against the top of his head.  
"I told you that you're cranky without sleep."  
"Am _not," _Micah said, smirking. There was a quiet chuckle.  
"Meathead." They lapsed back into silence. She sipped carefully at her Coke and he continued frowning at the antics of the Bunker family. Before he knew it, Micah had slipped into sleep -- fighting all the way.  
  
_"Micah... did you see what happened?" There were the words again, Garret's simple questions that echoed through his mind.  
"Some of it."  
(You liar.)  
"What?" He stared back blankly.  
"My parents."  
(No, don't ask me these questions, please...)  
"You saw what happened to them?" He answered with what he always answered:  
"I saw the corn."  
(Stop badgering me, please, I don't want to tell you!)  
Garret looked excited and pressed on.  
"What, what? Were they out in the cornfield?" He opened his mouth to let the words spill forth, because he knew they would -- but this time they were different.  
"Their blood was for the corn."  
That was how it really went, that_ _was the right answer. It wasn't an innocent observation -- "There was blood for the corn" -- it was a hard-hearted fact, the confirmation that he had absolutely no qualms about the fate of his parents.  
"Their blood was for the corn."  
  
_He was out of the dream before he was even fully sure he was in it. Gabe's hand was gently probing his face as she whispered to him.  
"Are you asleep, Micah?" He looked drowsily up at her and shook his head.  
"No." The word was dry and croaked. Gabe blinked, looking surprised. "What?" Micah asked confusedly.  
"You're crying," she murmured, brows twisting in concern. He brought a hand up to his face and found she was right. Gabe wiped away the tears gently with her thumb. "What's wrong, honey?"  
"Dream," he said quietly, suddenly ready to cry on his own. "I had another one."  
"Oh, love, I'm so sorry." She turned on the couch to pull him close, pressing his face to her shoulder. "I should've paid closer attention--"  
"It wasn't that bad," Micah mumbled against her pajamas. Gabe's fingers ran over his hair soothingly.  
"You're _crying," _she pointed out again. "Want to tell me what it--"  
"No." He realized how blunt and cold that sounded, but at the moment didn't want to think of the dream at all. She paused.  
"Oh." Then she kissed the lobe of his ear tenderly. "You want me to take you to your bedroom?"  
"Nah," he muttered, tears under control. "I'm fine."  
"God, stop trying to be so brave." Her voice was soft, but the tone was firm. "You can't keep backing away from me, Micah. I'll just follow you into your shell, so you'd better stop retreating into it." Micah blinked in surprise, then buried his face into the soft fabric of her pajamas.  
"Every time I back away, I end up running into you anyway." Gabe chuckled quietly and kissed the side of his head.  
"Damn straight," she murmured. "Get some sleep, Micah. It's nearly five-thirty in the morning."  
"But I'll _dream," _he pleaded weakly, already feeling his eyelids droop. "Please, I _can't--"_  
"It'll be all right." Gabe's hands made sure he was comfortable before she leaned back on the couch, still cradling him against her like a child. "I promise."  
"Gabe," Micah protested feebly. "Gabe, _please_, don't let me sleep--" She lowered her lips to his ear and whispered.  
"Everything's gonna be all right. I promise you, Micah. Everything's gonna be all right." His eyelids felt like ten-ton weights now and it was a great effort to talk. His body was ready for sleep, but he wasn't.  
_"Gabe," _he whimpered again, and buried his face in her shoulder. _"Please..."_ Her hands stroked his hair tenderly.  
"Everything's gonna be all right," she repeated quietly. Gabe fell silent. For one long moment, he thought he'd be left alone in the darkness to fend for himself. And then sleep was upon him, full and heavy and smothering -- but her arms were there. He could feel her, he could _smell _her, and that was a consolation in itself. Micah surrendered to sleep, hoping that consolations could stop nightmares.   



	5. Fever

--Don't own CotC or Micah. Some of you have mentioned something about the wheelchair -- you know who you are -- and I have to tell you, I've had it in mind. But just the same, I dedicate this chapter to you. I own Gabe, Edith, and Jeremiah. Use them if you wish, just get permission from me first. If this is as weird as I think it is, blame it on half a day of babysitting in a house all by myself, a six pack of Coke, and a bowl of peanut Chex Mix.--  
  
_I close my eyes when it gets too sad  
I think thoughts that I know are bad  
Close my eyes and I count to ten  
Hope it's over when I open them  
--_from _Wonderful _by Everclear  
  
Micah woke up with the distinct feeling that he _had _dreamt, but he had no recollection of what and that was just fine. A drowsy glance around discovered something; Gabe was gone. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, glancing around.  
"Gabe?" he said slowly. When there was no answer, he inched towards his wheelchair and reached out a hand to pull it towards him. It was too far away. "Gabe!" Micah tried again, craning his neck to see her.  
"Just a minute, hon." Her voice was distant, in another room. He could hear her murmuring something quietly, and someone answered with equally hushed words. _Jeremiah_. Micah stiffened. He strained to hear more, but all he caught was Gabe's angry voice -- "I think you should leave." -- and the kitchen door slamming.  
"Gabe?" he said slowly. She slipped back into the living room and offered a small smile.  
"Sorry. Sleep well?" The girl sat on the couch, a hand coming up to gently feel his forehead. "You don't feel warm."  
"No dreams," Micah said helpfully. Gabe gave him a warm smile.  
"Great." Her hands crept up to his shoulders and began kneading the muscles carefully. "Didn't I tell you it would all be all right?" His back was tense from sleeping on the couch; Micah sighed and relaxed a bit.  
"I hate it when you're right." He grunted quietly and let his chin rest against his chest. "A little harder, please." Gabe obeyed, her fingers infinitely gentle.  
"Well, considering the alternative, you should be glad I'm right this time," she said in a low voice, rubbing at his shoulders delicately. He grunted again in response and let his eyes drift closed. The girl chuckled, her fingers slowing a little. "Such a chatterbox today."  
"Gabe," he said softly, eyes still closed, "were you talking to Jeremiah a second ago?" She hesitated now and paused.  
"Why do you ask?" Micah looked over his shoulder at her, feeling a little frown creep over his brows.  
"Because I heard you yelling at him." Gabe stopped altogether; she sat back with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.  
"I wasn't yelling," she said quietly.  
"Speaking angrily, then." He turned so he could see her better and crossed his arms over his chest. Gabe nodded, running her hand through her hair.  
"Okay, I'll agree with that. I was speaking angrily with Jeremiah." Micah kept a blank stare -- he was getting rather good at his poker face -- but dug his fingernails into the sleeves of his pajamas to contain his contempt.  
_"Why?" _he managed through seemingly emotionless lips.  
"He was arguing with me," she said stiffly. "Look, I don't understand why you're so uptight about this."  
(tell her what he said why don't you)  
Micah kept his eyes locked on her, the first dark twitch of a brow showing.  
(tell her she'll believe you)  
Gabe stared right back as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
"Well?" she demanded. "Why are you being so stiff about Jer?"  
(probably she'll _probably _believe you)  
He didn't answer. His fingernails were digging deeper into his sleeves, nearly biting into the skin.  
(no not really she won't believe you)  
"Micah?" Now she sounded worried. He snapped out of his daze and blinked.  
(never you're just the murderer and he's)  
Gabe's frown deepened. She leaned forward.  
"Micah?" she said again, voice quiet.  
(he's _perfect)_  
"No problem," Micah said softly, and glanced away. "Can you help me to my chair?" The girl stared at him in concern.  
"Micah," she said for the third time, then sighed. "Yeah, sure." Gabe hooked her hands beneath his arms and swung him around to the wheelchair. Once he was situated, she didn't pull away; the girl hugged him tightly, pressing her face into the black mess that was his hair. "Don't be mad," Gabe whispered. "Please don't be mad. There's nothing going on, I swear it." He blinked in surprise and let his arms tighten around her.  
"I'm not mad," Micah murmured in her ear. "And I believe you."  
(But will you believe me?)  
  
More medicine came after lunch. It was a late lunch -- he had awakened at 2:30 p.m. -- and not very agreeable with his stomach. Nothing that went down felt right, and Micah was sure that if he opened his mouth to speak, it would all come right back up, the entire peanut butter sandwich and handful of Ritz crackers. Edith gave him the medicine afterwards despite his anguish; she didn't understand his fear of sleep. Gabe disappeared outside after he had been force-fed the red liquid, promising she'd be back. And Micah was wheeled to his room, mumbling and pleading to be kept awake -- but in the end he lost, and Edith tucked his sleeping form securely into bed.  
  
He dreamt.  
  
_He was wheeling himself calmly down the street, happy that he had finally mastered the damn thing. Gabe had been right -- it wasn't that hard. He kept his hands moving quickly as he directed the wheelchair towards the direction of Edith's house. It was just then that he realized he wasn't where he should be.  
  
He was in Hemmingford.  
  
He felt a sudden cold dread at this fact.  
(I shouldn't be here.)  
Wheeling himself faster, he hurried along the street and looked for someone to help him. Someone _would _help him, of course; he was in trouble, so they would help him. His wheelchair took a sudden lurch and his heart jumped into his throat.  
(What's wrong with this stupid thing?)  
He gripped the wheels tighter and struggled to stay calm. But he was pitched forward again and was embarrassed to hear a cry of surprise escape his mouth.  
(No, it's fine, it's all fine. Stay cool.)  
But it wasn't fine, none of it -- it wasn't time to stay cool. Because across the street from him was an old lady, a Radio Wave remote control in her hand and a sinister grin on her face.  
(Oh my God.)  
Pruitt stood behind her, smiling pleasantly and patting the old lady's shoulder in encouragement.  
"Go on," Pruitt murmured to the old woman.  
"How do you like it, sonny?!" she screeched, and jammed the stick of the remote forward. The wheelchair took another lurch and began to roll towards the street.  
(Oh)  
He grabbed madly at the wheels, but they were moving too quickly to keep hold of.  
(my)  
The wheelchair was doing crazy circles and loops around the sidewalk, inching ever closer to the street.  
(GOD)  
"Help!" he screamed as the chair bumped over the curb and began twirling like some madcap children's toy top. "Help me, please, make it stop!" A truck swerved to miss him. The man stuck his head out the window and screamed an obscenity at him, something along the lines of why he couldn't watch where he was going. The truck drove on, and he looked over his shoulder desperately. The old woman was laughing now, jiggling the stick of the remote like she was a giddy child with a new toy. It was just then that he realized who had appeared beside her -- Jeremiah.  
(no no no)  
Jeremiah flashed a boyish grin at the old lady.  
"May I see that, ma'am?" he asked courteously. The old woman smiled and handed over the remote, stopping the wheelchair's movement for a moment.  
"What a polite young man!" she exclaimed. "Go right on ahead, sonny. Give that hoodlum what's coming to him."  
"Oh, don't worry." Jeremiah smiled and stared at the boy in the wheelchair. "I will."  
"SOMEONE HELP ME!" he screamed, hands working madly on the wheels. He was getting closer to the sidewalk, so much closer... "PLEASE, DON'T LET HIM DO THIS!"  
"Nighty-night, Micah," murmured Jeremiah, and jammed the stick forward. The wheelchair lurched into motion and rocketed down the street, right towards the speeding semi.  
"NO!" He clawed desperately at the wheels, but it did no good. And that truck was just getting much too close for comfort... "STOP, PLEASE, DON'T--"   
  
And that was when the truck hit.  
  
_ Micah screamed as he shot forward, the sound hollow and frightening in the empty room. It took him a moment to realize that he was not in Hemmingford, there was no laughing old lady, and he hadn't been hit by a semi.  
"Oh, God," he said shakily, rubbing at his forehead. His fingers came back moist with sweat. Micah paused, then pressed his hand to his brow like Gabe always did. It was warmer than he thought it should be. "Edith," he called, feeling shaky all over. "Edith, Gabe -- someone!"  
"What?" The reply was distant, but it was getting closer. "What's wrong?"  
"Gabe!" He felt a bit of relief. "Gabe, please, I don't feel well--" She opened the door, frowning.  
"Honey, what's..." Gabe trailed off and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh. Oh my." He didn't like this reaction, but Micah swallowed the lump in his throat.  
"I don't feel well at all," he croaked. The girl stared at him, fear flickering across her features, then turned and abruptly disappeared into the hall.  
(what the hell)  
His heart did a dive-bomb into his stomach.  
"Gabe?" Micah said unsteadily.  
(she's deserted you couldn't bear to look at you)  
His heart resurfaced when she hurried back in with a bowl of water and a rag.  
"Oh, honey, you look so sick," she murmured, settling on the edge of his bed.  
"Do I?" He blinked in earnest surprise, then again to try to clear the haze from his eyes. "I just thought I was a little warm--"  
"You're burning up," Gabe informed him quietly after pressing a hand to his face. "Hold still. This might be a little cold." Micah braced himself as she dabbed at his cheek with the cold rag, sure enough jerking away. She slid a hand behind his head to stop that from happening again. "What happened, love?"  
"Dream," he said simply, wincing as the rag was pressed against his other cheek. _"Christ, _that's cold." The hand behind his head was gentle; it stroked the tips of his hair while the other dabbed at his face.  
"What about?" She wiped away a trickle of sweat from his temple. Micah cringed at the unpleasant chill.  
"Nothing, really. Just my wheelchair."  
(Not a lie. Beautiful maneuver.)  
Gabe responded with a slight nod and gently placed the rag on his forehead, letting it rest there. Now the coolness was nice. It fought the blazing heat on his brow and spread the relaxation to behind his eyes. He let his eyelids drift closed.  
"Sorry to bother you," he mumbled. There was a pause, then a tender kiss was pressed against his cheek.  
"No trouble," she replied softly. Micah was just beginning to think that he could sleep again when the voice came from the door.  
"What's up?"  
(oh my god that's not _even _funny)  
"Get into the hall, Jeremiah," Gabe hissed. Micah's eyes snapped open to glimpse the brown-haired boy, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe.  
"I think you let him out of the hospital too early."  
"Into the _hall, _Jeremiah!" Gabe whirled to face him, jabbing a finger in his direction. Jeremiah stuck up his hands in defense.  
"All right, all right." He turned and ambled into the hall -- but not until he had shot Micah a knowing smirk.  
"What's he doing here?" Micah whispered, feeling angry and shaky and sick. _Very _sick.  
"Lay down," Gabe murmured soothingly. She moved the washcloth over his eyes. "I'll be right back." She heaved herself to her feet and stalked towards the door, anger in every one of her steps. Micah slowly inched up the rag so he could watch. He didn't see much, but it was enough. Gabe rounded the corner, already snapping at Jeremiah as the hand clamped down on her wrist. She blinked in surprise before it gave a good strong yank, tugging her out of sight. There were sharp voices and heavy footsteps as they talked -- and then Micah realized it wasn't footsteps. Someone was being shoved into the wall. More angry voices, then--  
"Ow, stop it! That _hurts!"  
_--and more thuds, followed by--  
_"Stop it!"  
_--and a cry of surprise. He wasn't sure if it was the fever, but hot racing anger filled him, closely followed by a cold sick dread.  
  
Jeremiah was hurting Gabe.


	6. Fall From Grace

--Oh, for heaven's sake. I still don't own CotC or Micah. All right, are you happy now? I'm still waiting for some reviews. If you don't review... I'll start putting pointless stuff in the disclaimers! I can do that, you know! ...still own Gabe, Edith, and Jeremiah. Blah blah blah.--  
  
_She's the leader of her own world order  
She's a legend in my own mind  
She's the goddess of her own religion  
My madonna  
And I can't believe she's mine  
--_from _My Madonna_ by Dexter Freebish  
  
Micah struggled to a sitting position, letting the rag drop limply to the mattress.  
"Gabe?" he croaked. His hand went out blindly searching for the wheelchair. When it hit home, he gave it a yank. The chair slid forward, hit the bed, and rolled away. "Gabe?" Micah pulled himself to the edge of the bed and stretched out his hand, trying desperately to grab the armrest, but his fingertips barely brushed it. He leaned a little farther -- just a little bit -- and suddenly the world was ripped out from under him. His vision swum, the room spun, and with a thud and a flash of pain, Micah was on the ground.  
(ow)  
"Gabe!" This time, it wasn't a question; it was a call for help. He knew very well he couldn't get up. The fever was getting worse, it seemed, and the fall had rekindled some forgotten wound in his back. If it had been dying embers before, it was an inferno now.  
"Let me--" There were more struggling sounds from the hall. "I have to help-- _Let me go, you bastard!" _A sharp slap rang through the house. Micah tried to sit up, feeling the need to help in some way, and immediately winced. His back screamed in protest at the sudden movement, so he fell back to the floor. Gabe poked her head in the room. "Micah, what--" She stopped right away and dashed forward. "Oh my _God_, what _happened?!"_ Her hands were already probing and inspecting for injuries, running gently over his face and hair.  
"Fell off," he said dimly. Micah looked up and saw Jeremiah standing behind Gabe, arms crossed threateningly over his chest.  
"Can I--"  
"You've done enough," she snapped, and hooked her hands under Micah's arms. "I'm going to lift you to the--" But she didn't even get to finish. Micah let out a cry at the flare of pain that shot through his back. Gabe inhaled sharply and let go. "Okay -- okay, so that won't work." Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably in the background.  
"Are you sure I can't--"  
"Shut _up, _Jeremy!" The girl whirled on him and, with surprising strength, shoved him back into the wall. "All you're doing is making it worse!" Jeremiah looked surprised, but not for long. He decided to lean against the wall as if it were his idea to be there in the first place. Micah glared up at him in hatred.  
(this is _your _fault)  
He was recieved with a cool stare.  
"Honey, just lie still. I'll get Edith to help, okay?" Gabe ran a hand from his forehead over his hair, bringing Micah's attention back to her.  
" 'Kay," he mumbled. She smiled weakly and got to her feet.  
"Be right back." Gabe turned, heading out the door, and was stopped by Jeremiah's restraining hand.  
"Where do you think you're going?" Jeremiah asked in a low voice, his fingers tightening around her wrist. Micah tried to spit out a curse  
(let _go _of her you little prick)  
but the fever was taking hold and his back was screaming, so speech was nearly impossible. Gabe's eyes spoke for him. She looked at the hand around her wrist and slowly transferred the gaze to Jeremiah's green eyes.  
"If you don't let go of me right now," she said coldly, giving Jeremiah the blackest glare either of them had ever seen, "I swear to God, I'll kick your sorry ass so badly that Micah will be able to walk better than you." Her words were low and probably supposed to be confidential, but Micah heard anyway. He didn't mind for the moment; the fact that the ceiling was shifting into funny shapes was higher on his list of priorities.  
"Try it," Jeremiah hissed, and Gabe yanked her hand out of his grasp.  
"Get out of my house, you son of a bitch." The boy glared for a moment -- first at Gabe, then at Micah -- and turned.  
"I'll be back," he muttered, slinking towards the front door. "You can be sure of that." Gabe followed after him. Micah dimly heard a door slam, then Gabe's scream -- _"Bastard!"_ -- before the world did one last crazy twirl and finally went black.  
  
"Micah. Micah, sweetheart, can you hear me?"  
(mom?)  
"Honey. Oh, honey, you have to open your eyes."  
(angela?)  
"Please, Micah. Please open your eyes for me."  
(gabe)  
Hard as it was, Micah lifted his eyelids and looked for the voice speaking to him. Gabe was sitting on a chair beside the bed. They were in her room.  
"Wha--" He opened his mouth to speak, but she put a finger gently over his lips.  
"Sh. Don't talk yet. I'm not sure if the fever has passed." Then she smiled weakly down at him. "Crazy night, huh?"  
(son of a bitch _Jeremiah)_  
Micah wasn't allowed to answer, so he just glared. Gabe brushed his hair away from his eyes.  
"Yeah. I know." She snatched a thermometer from the nightstand by her bed and held it to his lips. "Can you open your mouth for me, love?" He obeyed and let the tube slide in. The girl stroked his face lightly with her fingertips. "Good. That's good." A minute or two went by before she pulled the thermometer out and squinted at the result.  
"So, doc," Micah said, making a weak attempt at a joke, "am I gonna make it?"  
"Quiet. You'll make the fever worse." But Gabe smiled shakily down at him anyway. "It's still a little high: 100.4. It should pass after a little while." She dropped the thermometer on the nightstand, seized a glass of clear liquid, and turned back to Micah. "Can you lean forward a little?" He sat forward as best he could, and Gabe slid a hand behind his head. She held the glass to his lips. "Drink, please." Micah took a little sip, made a face at the taste, and swallowed.  
"Yuck," he spat, smacking his lips in an effort to rid them of the odd flavor, "what is that stuff?"  
"Warm 7-up. It's what I always drank when I was sick. Take another sip." He frowned up at her, but obeyed and gulped a little more of the bubbly liquid.  
"Tastes gross," Micah muttered, and took another sip.  
"Sorry. It helps with the fever, I promise." Gabe pulled the glass away.  
"Are you sure?" He offered a weak smirk. "It's not just to see me make funny faces?" She chuckled quietly, turning back to him.  
"Nah. Amusement is just a bonus." The girl pressed the back of her hand to his forehead again. "You feel a little cooler. I think the fever's going down." Micah leaned back into his pillow.  
"Good," he murmured, then reconsidered. "Gabe."  
"What, sweetheart?" She stroked his face lightly with her thumb. He swallowed a little and met her eyes.  
"Did he hurt you? Badly?" Gabe blinked in surprise, then laughed softly and covered it with her hand.  
"Oh, honey," she said quietly, cupping her palm against his cheek. "No, he didn't hurt me badly. My wrists are a little sore, that's all." The girl chuckled again, but it was a sad sound this time. "Your back is a big knot of pain, you've had a fever for the past three hours... and you want to know if I was hurt." Gabe smiled, somewhat mournfully, and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "You're such an angel."  
(me?)  
Micah opened his mouth to counter, but he shifted a little and his back screamed. So, much to his dismay, a whimper of pain escaped instead.  
(weakling)  
Her hands held him still.  
"Don't try to move," Gabe said gently. Then she paused and reconsidered. "I'm going to try to roll you over on your stomach, okay?" He looked up at her, black brows raised.  
"Won't that hurt?"  
(so what if it does wimp)  
"Just a little. But believe me, it'll be worth it." She slid her hands securely on one of his shoulders and his side, then let out a short breath. "If it hurts too much, tell me to stop. Ready?" Micah nodded a little.  
"Yeah, I guess."  
(no you're not wimp wimp _wimp)  
_"Okay. Here we go." It was one swift motion. Before he had time to react, Gabe had flipped him over onto his stomach like a pancake -- and, much to his surprise, with only a little twinge of pain. "Are you okay?" she asked almost immediately.  
"Just fine," he mumbled, gingerly folding his arms to make a cushion for his head. Gabe sighed in relief.  
"Oh, good. Good." There was a short period of silence before she very gently began rolling up the hem of his shirt.  
"What are you doing?" Micah asked with only mild surprise.  
"Part of your recovery program." Gabe finished rolling his shirt a little above his shoulderblades and turned to the nightstand. "It'll make you feel much better." She squirted something into her hand, rubbed it between her palms, and lowered them to his back.  
"What are you going to do, grease me like a pig?" He snickered to himself, then stopped abruptly when she began ever so gently kneading his aching back.  
"Shut up or I'll stop." Micah didn't need to be told twice; the massage was heavenly. Whatever she had on her hands smelled like lavender and spread an odd cooling feeling down to his spine, through his throbbing muscles and shattered nerves. Gabe worked in silence. Her fingertips rubbed and stroked, slowly battling the blazing pain until it was just a dull sting.  
"Recovery program my ass," he mumbled sleepily, eyelids drifting closed. _ "Mmn."_  
"Feel good?" she asked in a quiet voice. Micah buried his face in the cushion of his arms and sighed.  
_"Mmn." _ Gabe smiled and pulled her hands away, rubbing them on her jeans.  
"Thought so." She paused, then leaned forward and pressed her face gently against his bare back. "Mm. You smell yummy."  
"Thanks," he muttered into his sleeves. "It's every guy's dream to smell like lavender." The girl ran her fingers delicately over his spine, making Micah shiver involuntarily.  
_"I _think it's sexy," Gabe whispered, then pressed a soft kiss against his skin. "I gotta go find Edith. I forgot earlier that she had gone to work, so I'm going to call her and see if she can come home."  
"Don't bother her with me." He lifted his head gingerly from his arms to look at her. "I'll be--"  
"If the fever comes back," she informed him quietly, "and I can't get it back down, we'll have wished that Edith was here. I'm going to call her." Gabe gave him a weak smile and kissed the bare skin of his back again. "I won't take long. I promise."  
  
Micah sighed quietly and glanced around the room. His back did feel much better, and it did feel as if the fever was going down. It only took a moment to realize that Jeremiah was leaning onto the sill, his head sticking through the open and unlocked window.  
(son of a _bitch)  
_"How's the little patient doing?" he murmured calmly. Micah couldn't move for fear of his back, so he just glared at him over the cushion of his arms.  
"Get out." Jeremiah smiled thinly.  
"Sure. But there's no guarantee I won't be back." Micah scowled and started to sit up, but a sharp sliver of pain went through his spine. He laid back down.  
"You cowardly little shit," Micah said quietly, giving Jeremiah the blackest glare he could manage. "If you ever lay a hand on Gabe ever again, I'll--"  
"You'll _sit _there and watch," Jeremiah finished, a smirk dancing across his face, "because you can't do a god damned thing about it, can you?"  
(SON OF A BITCH)  
"Get out," he said softly, and the boy shrugged.  
"Whatever you say, Mr. Balding." Jeremiah flashed a grin before dropping out of sight. "I'll see you later. Be sure of that."


	7. Broken Trust, Broken Hearts

--And then the three pigs climbed up the beanstalk to give the Pied Piper an old shoe... oh, wait, I HAVE gotten reviews! No more pointless stuff, huzzah! Still don't own CotC or Micah. Still _do _own Gabe, Edith, and Jeremiah. Is it just me, or is he even more hated than Pruitt? Gasp! Anywhos, to answer a question in a review... yes, warm 7-up _does _work on fevers. At least, that's what my mom always told me-- and yes, warm 7-up _does _taste as nasty as Micah says.--  
  
_And she swears there's nothing wrong  
I hear her playing that same old song  
She puts me off and puts me on  
Had a bad day again  
--_from _Bad Day _by Fuel  
  
Gabe tipped her head slightly to the side, a frown twitching her brows.  
"No, there's nothing wrong." Micah fiddled with his fork uncomfortably.  
"Are you _sure? _Because Jeremiah's really been--"  
"I _promise, _Micah." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Everything's great. He won't cause any more trouble."  
(I wouldn't bet on that.)  
"Okay," he said, surrendering. "What are we going to watch tonight?"  
"Tonight?" Gabe echoed with a frown. "You're not going to stay up all night again." He poked boredly at his macaroni and cheese and made sure to keep his eyes lowered.  
"Remember what happened last time I went to sleep?" Micah said quietly. "Besides, I'm not even tired." The girl let out a frustrated sigh and pushed her plate away.  
"The circles beneath your eyes would suggest otherwise. Look, Micah, you can't stay awake your entire life! I'm starting to think we're in a Nightmare on Elm Street movie." He didn't look up, but smirked down at the yellow noodles.  
" 'One, two, Freddy's gonna get you...' " Gabe was quiet for a moment before she laughed softly.  
" 'Three, four, lock the door.' " She stood and took the empty plate to the sink. "I know the dreams scare you, sweetheart, but you can't just stay awake."  
"Why not?" Micah offered his plate to Gabe, who took it and ran it under the faucet. "The Elm Street Kids did it." She tossed a skeptical look over her shoulder.  
"And if the Elm Street Kids got chopped to bits by Freddy Krueger, would you want to too?" He stuck his tongue out at her.  
"Hmph. It depends." Gabe rolled her eyes and wiped off the dishes, sliding them into the cabinets where they belonged.  
"Oh, quiet. You're going to bed tonight at a decent hour--" She held up a threatening finger. "--or else." Micah put on a blank, zombie-like look and said dreamily,  
" 'Five, six, grab your crucifix...' " Gabe snickered.  
"I'm _this _close to whopping you one, boy," she said, ruffling his hair. "You're going to sleep tonight. And I mean it."  
  
He could hear video cassettes falling over.  
"I don't see anything really good," Gabe called distantly. "The only horror movies that are decent are 'Candyman' and 'The Exorcist'." She stuck her head into the cupboard where they kept the videos and sighed. "Either one sound good?"  
(a possessed little girl)  
"Candyman, please." Micah shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't feel like a movie about possession tonight." Gabe reappeared, cassette in hand.  
"Okay. One big black guy covered in bees comin' up." She flashed him a grin and dropped to a knee by the VCR. "It's pretty good for--" The door bell rang quite suddenly. Gabe paused, then pushed the video into the slot. "Be right back." She hauled herself to her feet and passed by Micah, ruffling her hair as she went. "Grab the remote and turn it on if you want."  
" 'Kay," he piped. Wheeling the chair over towards the coffee table, he reached for the remote and pressed 'play'. Gabe disappeared into the hall. A door opened distantly.  
"Yes?" There was a long silence. "What are you doing here?" Micah froze and slowly hit 'pause'.  
"I need to talk to you." It was Jeremiah's voice, low and concealed.  
(what does the bastard want)  
"There's nothing we need to talk about," Gabe said tightly.  
"Gabe," Jeremiah murmured, and there was a trace of a plea in his words. _"Please." _Micah tensed, the remote forgotten in his hand._  
_(don't do it Gabe)  
But he knew she would -- Gabe was too compassionate to refuse a soul in need -- and she did.  
"Come in," she said quietly, and the door closed.  
(god _damn _it all to hell)  
"Thank you." There were soft footsteps that padded into the hall.  
"Stop here," Gabe whispered. Micah could hear them in the entryway, lingering just beyond his sight.  
(stupid son of a--)  
"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked quietly.  
"Gabe..." Soft scuffling noises echoed in the hallway. "I should think you'd know."  
"Don't-- don't touch me, Jer--" More struggling sounds. "I'm warning you--" Micah, sensing danger, turned slowly from the television.  
(If he hurts her...)  
He wheeled towards the entrance to the hall.  
"Please, just listen to me for a second." Jeremiah's voice was pleading again and the noises had stopped. "Please." Gabe spoke softly.  
"Give me some room, Jeremiah." A quiet movement of shoes on carpet.  
"There. Satisfied?" There was a pause. "Okay. It's about Micah."  
(What _about _me?)  
He stiffened and wheeled a little closer.  
"Micah?" Gabe echoed, sounding concerned.  
"Yes." Jeremiah spoke quietly, but there was definite venom in his voice. "Do you love him?" Micah's hands tightened around the wheels.  
(Is that any of your business, you little prick?)  
"What?" Gabe was taken aback. "Why would you--"  
"Answer the question. Do you love him or not?" There was silence.  
(Of course she does.)  
Another long pause.  
"I--" Gabe stuttered. "Jer, I--" Micah felt his heart sink.  
(...doesn't she?)  
"This isn't--" She sounded startled.  
_(Gabe?)  
_"Hm. Well." Jeremiah's voice was amused. "I guess that answers the question." Micah swallowed back tears and wheeled a little closer.  
"What's your point?" Gabe had regained composure. There was an odd noise, soft and muffled. It didn't sound right. Moving closer to the hallway, Micah ever so carefully looked around the corner.  
(oh god oh god _oh god)  
_Jeremiah had backed Gabe into the wall, palms spread across the wallpaper on either side of her head. It would've been bad enough that he was that close to her, but his lips were pressed against Gabe's in what looked like a very rough kiss.  
_(son of a BITCH)  
_Micah felt frozen. He didn't move any closer or farther away; he was only able to stare at the horrifying scene before him. Jeremiah pulled back after what seemed an eternity. Gabe stared at him in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.  
"What the hell was that?" she asked softly. The boy ducked his head a little to press his brow against hers.  
"Why do you think I've been acting so crazy lately?" Jeremiah tapped her lips lightly with a fingertip. "Seeing you with_ him... _it's driving me nuts, Gabe." Micah felt his fingers tighten even more around the wheels. If they got any tighter, he observed dimly, they were going to fall off.  
"Jeremy," Gabe murmured quietly.  
(oh my GOD)  
"Jeremiah," the boy corrected, and gave her another hard kiss. This one lasted a lot longer than Micah thought it should. Gabe didn't look as indignant as she should've either.  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was huskier than before.  
"It wasn't the right time." Jeremiah smiled a little and tipped his head towards hers. "I didn't want to tell you-- I _couldn't _tell you until it was time." His lips moved dangerously close to Gabe's ear as he whispered. "It's time, Gabe."  
  
His hands were moving before he even knew what was happening.  
"Get out," Micah growled, teeth clenched so hard they hurt. Gabe's head poked over the boy's shoulder.  
"Micah!" It came out in a surprised squeak. Jeremiah turned slowly, not looking the least bit startled.  
"Good evening, Mr.--"  
_"Get out." _Micah didn't yell yet; he was too mad to even shout. The anger was just compacted into the two tiny words that dripped venom. He wheeled closer to the two who had consequently moved away from each other.  
"Jer, you need to leave," Gabe said quickly. Jeremiah didn't even wait for another suggestion. He slunk slowly out the door, hands in his pockets, looking as if he was simply late for a favorite television show. Now that Jeremiah was gone, Micah turned his blackest glare on the now-pallid girl.  
"Let me guess," he said softly, wheeling a little closer. "It's not what it looks like?"  
"Micah--" Gabe scurried forward and grabbed his hand. "Micah, please, don't be--" He jerked away convulsively.  
" 'There's nothing going on'," Micah quoted, voice a harsh whisper. " 'I swear it.' " She stared at him, blue eyes hurt and confused and terribly, terribly frightened.  
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly as she backed up a few steps.  
"Oh?" He felt his lips curl into a sneer. "Let me guess. He tripped and you caught him with your lips?"  
"Stop it!" Gabe put her hands over her ears and backed into the wall. "Stop it! Nothing happened, nothing at all--"  
_"DON'T LIE TO ME!" _Now it seemed that yelling was appropriate. Micah wheeled closer, knuckles white as he clutched the wheels. _"DON'T LIE TO ME, GABE! I'M NOT AN IDIOT!" _  
"I know that!" she shrieked, looking panicked. "Stop yelling at me!"  
(you were stupid to trust her you were stupid to trust _anyone)  
_"I should've known," he muttered as he turned his wheelchair slowly around. "You never even said you loved me. I guess it's not real until you say the words." There was a short silence before Gabe's footsteps followed him.  
"That's not funny." She dodged in front of him; now her eyes were angry. "That's not something you joke about, Micah. Take it back right now." Micah looked up at her and -- after only a brief pause -- gave her a sneer. Not just a little leer, an all-out lip-curling venom-filled snarl.  
"When Hell freezes over and we all go ice skating." Gabe staggered back like she had been slapped. Her blue eyes were wide and still angry, but filled with incredibly intense hurt.  
"Fine. Fine." She stepped aside and gave an over-elaborate flourish. "Go right ahead." Micah felt a sharp sting of surprise mingled with pain, but he wheeled quickly past.  
"Great." He pushed the wheelchair forward with hard, angry shoves of the wheels. He had almost reached his room before Gabe yelled, her voice wounded and furious.  
"Every night while you slept!" Micah frowned, not understanding, and looked over his shoulder.  
"What?" She stood in the living room, her hands clenched, and he saw how terribly alone she looked.  
"That's when I told you I loved you," Gabe said in a trembly voice. "Every night while you slept."  
(oh my god what have I done)  
"I--" His voice cracked, and he coughed to cover the fact. "Gabe, I--"  
"Want to apologize?" She glanced at the floor. "Then do it."  
(but you aren't wrong you're _right)  
_"Apologize for what?" Micah said calmly, and the anger reappeared in her face.  
"Screw you, then," she spat, and whirled towards the kitchen.  
(No, wait, Gabe--)  
"Maybe later," he said with a smirk that didn't feel right. She disappeared past the doorway.  
(Come back, no, please--)  
_"Screw you!"_ The shriek echoed eerily in the now empty living room. _"Screw you, Micah! I don't care anymore!"_ He sat frozen in his chair, the smart comments finally gone, hot tears stinging his eyes.  
("Cut out her tongue and carve out her heart.")  
Micah wasn't sure if that was what had happened. All he knew was that it felt as if his own heart had been carved out -- and salt rubbed into the gaping wound.


	8. Crimson Tears

--HAH! Have I got your attention now? Who knew I could be so cruel? I did, I did! Heh. CotC and Micah aren't mine, but God knows I can steal 'em. Gabe, Jeremiah, and Edith are mine. With my permission, you can use them. I don't own the songs. Okay? Done? Okay! On to the fic!--  
  
_Anyone perfect must be lying  
Anything easy has its cost  
Anyone plain can be lovely  
Anyone loved can be lost  
--_from _Falling For the First Time _by The Barenaked Ladies  
  
Micah wheeled clumsily into his room, ashamed to see that he was already crying. What was it she had said?  
("I don't care anymore.")  
Gabe hadn't meant that. Had she?  
"I'm such an idiot," he croaked, throat feeling dry and scratchy. "It wasn't her fault, and I _knew _it wasn't her fault, but I didn't _care..." _ He pushed the wheelchair close to the bed, but was too far away to get in. Micah sat back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. His anger had gotten the better of him.  
(Here's where Gabe's supposed to comfort me.)  
But there was no one there to comfort him.  
(And you know whose fault _that_ is?)  
He felt a sob well up in his throat and didn't even bother to force it down. And there he sat: a pale young man in a wheelchair, sobbing into his hands in an empty room at night with no way to get into bed and no one to tell him it was all going to be all right.  
  
Edith came in half an hour later.  
"Micah, could you tell me what happened? Gabe's locked herself in her room and she won't come out." She bustled towards the bed and paused, glancing at Micah's tearstained face. "Honey... what happened?"  
"We had a fight," he said hoarsely as he rubbed at his eyes. They felt puffy and sore.  
"You and Gabe?" Edith frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But you two were so happy--"  
"Not anymore," Micah muttered, and that only brought on another dry sob. She leaned forward and gave him a slight hug.  
"It'll turn out okay. I'm sure of it. Gabe's not one to hold a grudge." Edith pulled away and smiled. "I bet if you sleep on it, it'll look different in the morning."  
(I bet.)  
Micah rubbed again at his eyes.  
"I guess." Sleep was really the last thing on his mind, but at least it would be a relief from reality gone bad.  
"There's a good boy," she crooned, and hooked her hands under his arms. In a swift movement, Edith swung him from the chair to the bed. Her hands quickly tugged the blankets up to his chin and tucked him in securely. "Sleep well, dear." She smiled and turned towards the door.  
"I'm sure I will," he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Edith started to tug the knob, then stopped.  
"Micah," she said slowly, "If you want, I can talk to Gabe for you."  
(yes yes talk to her _please)  
_"I'd like that." Micah offered a weak, tearstained smile. The chubby woman nodded her head in cheerful assent.  
"All right. Sweet dreams, then -- and no more crying." Edith turned and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving the room dark as a cave and feeling much, much emptier.  
  
_He shook his head sadly. It was so hard to tell who to trust, who was loyal to He Who Walks Behind The Rows.  
"You disappoint me," he murmured to Danny. "Now you must be treated just like the others." Danny threw down the scythe with a scowl.  
"Screw you, Micah!" His face twisted into a disgusted sneer. "Screw you! I don't care anymore!" He frowned a little.  
(That's not what Danny is supposed to say...)  
Danny's face kept twisting and writhing, and it wasn't a mere changing of expression. The face itself was changing. It wasn't Danny's face anymore; it was Gabe's.  
"Every night while you slept!" she cried, a shriek of anguish and hurt. "I told you I loved you, Micah! EVERY NIGHT!" He stumbled away, all thoughts of He Who Walks Behind The Rows gone. Gabe's face was all he saw -- she was crying, sobbing, and her tears ran red streams down her face. Not tears. Blood.  
"I'm sorry," he gasped, but the words were a hoarse whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I was jealous--" Gabe's bleeding eyes flashed. It took a moment to realize that it wasn't just a gleam of anger. Her eyes had changed color; they were green now. Gabe's face, Jeremiah's eyes.  
"Jealousy!" she choked, a mirthless laugh escaping. "Jealousy, envy, the Green-Eyed Monster!" Gabe staggered towards him while Jeremiah's eyes bled endlessly. He stumbled a few more steps backward.  
"I-- I was jealous because--"  
"Say it, why don't you!" She glared at him in hatred, green eyes still spouting scarlet tears. "Say it if you can, you little coward!" He felt his back hit something solid. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his fear -- the stalks of corn had been bound together to form a wall. He was trapped.  
"Gabe-- Gabe, please, don't--"  
"Say it!" She fumbled towards him, hands reaching and clawing. Gabe's eyes bled relentlessly. He could feel the tears splattering on his shirt. "Say it, you spineless little shit!"  
"I-- I--" A strangled sob cut off his words. He tried again. "I--" Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.  
"Say it! I said it, I said it every night, you can say it just once! SAY IT!" He broke down into helpless sobs. It would be impossible to say it now.  
"I love you, Gabe! I really do!" Somehow, he managed -- through all the blubbering and normal salty tears, he forced the words to his lips. "I love you!" Gabe paused, her grip becoming a little more gentle.  
"That's all I wanted to hear," she said softly, then grinned. It was a nasty grin, merciless and ugly. Her face shifted again. Now Gabe was Jeremiah, eyes still bleeding terribly. "Kiss me, beautiful," Jeremiah hissed.  
  
_Micah screamed.  
  
It echoed oddly in the empty room. It sounded as if there were ten Micahs, all screaming in terror, all clawing at the sheets in a desperate attempt to escape the nightmare. He curled into a ball as best he could, sobbing in fright.  
(she was bleeding from her eyes)  
He could still feel Jeremiah's hot breath on his face, the cruel words in his ears.  
(and they weren't even _her _eyes)  
His back ached and his brow burned, but he stayed in his fetal position and continued to sob. Micah waited for the comforting arms to fold around him, for the soothing voice at his ear and the gentle fingers in his hair. Nothing happened.  
(there's no one to help you because you drove her away)  
It felt much too long -- really only a few minutes -- before Edith hurried in and calmed him down.  
  
"Are you sure you're all right?" Micah nodded shakily and took the glass offered to him.  
"Fine," he said softly, taking a drink. He cringed almost immediately -- it was warm 7-up.  
_(ages _ago)  
Edith smiled and smoothed his hair.  
"I'm going to help you to your chair. Then I have to leave for work." She transferred him quickly, making sure not to spill any of the warm soda.  
"Work?" Micah blinked in surprise as a thought occurred to him. "Gabe's already left, hasn't she?" Edith nodded sadly.  
"Yes, dear. I'm sorry. I know you wanted to talk to her." She patted his hand gently and turned him around, wheeling him out into the living room. He didn't object. "You can have breakfast if you want. I'll call a little before lunch and make sure you're okay."  
"I'll be fine," he murmured.  
(no you won't you're in _horrible _condition)  
"That's what I thought," Edith said cheerfully. "You have to start staying home alone sooner or later." She smiled, leaving him in front of the television, and bustled towards the door. "Like I said, I'll be sure to call."  
" 'Kay. I'll keep the phone by me." Micah wheeled to where the cordless hung on the wall. He had to stretch a little, but he managed to grab it. Edith grinned at this.  
"Good! You're doing very well already." She snatched her keys and headed out the door. "I'll talk to you later, Micah."  
"Sure thing," he murmured, and tucked the phone beside him securely.  
  
The house felt very empty. Micah wheeled slowly down the hall, feeling more alone than ever before. It nearly choked him, the horrible smothering silence, and he needed some way to get rid of it. He passed the door to Gabe's room. There was a pause before Micah felt his hands reverse the direction of the wheels, slowly moving backwards. He swallowed, gritted his teeth, and pushed himself into the room.  
(oh god)  
With another painful swallow, he wheeled farther into the room.  
  
It _smelled _like her.  
  
The room was as silent as the rest of the house, but Gabe's scent nearly hovered in the air. Her warm, comfortable smell -- what he breathed in when he had his face pressed into her shirt. Micah clamped his hands over his mouth to stop a sob from escaping. He hadn't realized how much he missed her, but the sudden flood of familiarity...  
(oh god it _smells like her)_  
Micah wheeled towards the computer desk, some morbid feeling pressing him on. He didn't know if more of her things would help or hurt, but he had to find out. Her pictures were still plastered all over the desk, but something looked different. Some had been ripped off and new ones put in their place.  
(she got rid of all traces of me)  
But that wasn't the case. He looked at the photos, eyes trailing slowly over them: there was Gabe, 3 years old, ice cream smeared on her face; a man and woman, smiling cheerfully as they stood before a fountain; a group of girls at a high school lunch table, Gabe among them; and then--  
(I don't understand)  
There he was. A few pictures in succession: Micah sulking in the hospital bed; Micah poking boredly at his dinner; Gabe and Micah outside his new home. He frowned and let his gaze move over the newspaper clipping -- "Local nurse killed in bizarre religious ceremony" -- and to the last picture.  
(what the hell)  
It was another picture of himself, but in this one he was sleeping. He squinted at the photo. Micah remembered the shirt he was wearing in the picture and realized something. It had been taken very recently.  
(She took it about three days ago--)  
He shook his head in disbelief.  
(--got it developed--)  
It didn't make sense.  
(--so she had to have put it up_ today.)  
_Micah frowned, not understanding.  
"But she was so mad at me," he whispered, and let his gaze fall to the trashcan. "Why isn't my picture in there?" And then he squinted. There _was _a picture in there. It was years old; Gabe was probably eleven or twelve. She had an arm around the shoulder of a boy the same age. A boy with brown hair and green eyes.  
(Jeremiah?)  
It was hard to tell anything else, however, because the photo had been crumpled and ripped in half.  
"I don't understand," Micah said softly, pressing a palm to his brow.  
(She threw away Jeremiah's picture and kept all of mine.)  
It hit him like a splash of cold water.  
"It means she still loves me," he whispered, and let out a little sob of relief. He had never felt anything so completely encouraging. There was still hope -- Gabe might still forgive him.  
"Does she?" The voice was sudden and close. Micah whirled to see the only person he expected to see.  
"What do _you _want?" he growled. Jeremiah smiled thinly.  
"Ironically, the same thing as you." He walked slowly towards Micah, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. And we both know that she can only pick _one."_  
(son of a bitch he _kissed _her)  
"Get out of this house," Micah spat, wheeling towards him. Jeremiah just grinned and shook his head slowly.  
"That worked once. No more."  
(he kissed her he had his _hands _on her)  
"She's really a very good kisser, you know," Jeremiah mused. "A real _peach."_ White-hot anger flared through Micah.  
"I'll kill you," he snarled, and gave the wheels a shove. He realized how weak that must've looked, a cripple launching himself at a perfectly healthy young man, but anger was in control now. Unfortunately, so was Jeremiah. The boy stuck out a foot and gave the chair a good hard kick. Micah flew backwards. His chair did a crazy circle before it spun slowly to a stop, facing away from Jeremiah. An arm suddenly flew around him from behind, the crook of an elbow being pressed against his neck.  
"You know," Jeremiah hissed into Micah's ear, pulling a little harder, "in the Old Testament, Jeremiah and Micah were both prophets." He gave another yank; Micah gasped in surprise and pain. "I should think a prophet would've seen this coming."  
"Let... me..." Micah made an odd choking noise, fingers clawing at Jeremiah's arm. "I... can't..."  
"And a child shall lead them," sneered Jeremiah.  
(I'm going to die)  
His vision was swimming. No more air could be forced into his mouth, and his lungs were craving oxygen.  
(I'm going to die and Gabe will never know)  
Micah gasped like a fish out of water and dug his nails into Jeremiah's arm.  
(she'll never know I love her)  
"Gabe--" he choked, then did the only thing he could think of. While Jeremiah chuckled darkly, Micah wriggled out of his grip just enough to make contact with the skin of his arm. With all the power he had left, he opened his mouth and clamped his teeth down on the soft flesh.  
(this is for Gabe you son of a bitch)  
Jeremiah howled and released him, clutching his injured arm. Micah gasped for breath and wheeled away. The chair hit the wall with a dull thud, so he swiveled quickly and headed for the door. Jeremiah was blocking it, however -- fingers wrapped over the wound and a dark smirk on his face.  
"Oh, no," he panted, and Micah noticed that there was a trickle of blood escaping Jeremiah's protective hand. "I'm not finished with you yet, boy. Not by a long shot."


	9. The Fallen

--Don't own CotC or Micah. Own Gabe, Jeremiah, and Edith. All I have to say for this one is... brace yourself.--  
  
_You will run and you will crawl  
God knows that even angels fall  
No such thing as you've lost it all  
God knows that even angels fall  
_--from _Even Angels Fall_ by Jessica Riddle  
  
Micah rubbed at his throat nervously.  
"Kill me if you want," he said in a low voice, surprised to hear the words. "But I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Gabe--" Jeremiah chuckled darkly and snuck a glance at his injury.  
"I'm not going to kill you. Heavens, no." The boy took a step towards him. Micah convulsively wheeled the chair backwards. "You're worth much more alive than dead."  
(worth?)  
"I don't understand," Micah said slowly. Jeremiah took another step; he wheeled backwards again.  
"Oh, you will," Jeremiah murmured, and flashed a maddened grin.  
(he's insane)  
"I see you are still dubious." The boy ambled slowly towards Micah, who wheeled desperately backwards until he hit the wall. Jeremiah shook his head and made a _tsk _noise. "Shall I show you, young Micah? Shall I show you what I mean?" There was a horrible darkness to his words. Micah felt something inside him cringe.  
(no I don't want to see)  
"Get it over with," he hissed. Jeremiah smirked and opened his mouth to speak -- but it wasn't his voice that came out. It was Micah's.  
"THEY WERE _ADULTS!_ They were of that world. We have seen the way of that world and it is _evil." _Micah's mouth dropped.  
(hey that's _mine)  
_"What are you--" he stuttered, grasping for words. "Stop it, stop it right--" Jeremiah kept talking, his face twisting into a sinister grin.  
"You do not see the truth, Jedediah. Because it is not yet with us." Micah put his hands over his ears, but they did no good. His voice kept coming out of Jeremiah's mouth. "There is work to do before he cometh. Go home and wait for a sign."  
"Stop it," he gasped. Jeremiah smirked morbidly.  
"You remember Jedediah, don't you?" he asked quietly. "You remember him. Jedediah -- and Mordecai -- and Ruth -- and Malachai -- and _Isaac." _The boy's grin flashed again, all teeth and no eyes. "I was very close to Isaac, you know. Very close indeed." The words hit him slowly but surely.  
(oh my god)  
Jeremiah stepped closer.  
"Almost as close as I was with you."  
(oh)  
Micah shook his head.  
(my)  
"What are you talking about?" he whispered.  
(GOD)  
"Shall I show you, young Micah?" Jeremiah asked again, and grinned.   
"No," Micah breathed, his voice a terrified whisper. "No, no, no..." But Jeremiah had already begun. His face writhed and twisted, shifting into the horrible image of a demon. The face Micah had seen in the cornfield. He covered his eyes in horror, and slowly the cracking of bones and stretching of skin silenced.  
"Do you see, young Micah? Do you see what you are up against?" Jeremiah's voice was closer now.  
(it's him it's him it's _him)  
_Micah's fingers found the phone at his side.  
"Aren't-- aren't you going to explain your brilliant plan?" He managed to sound semi-casual; his voice still shook a little. "It's what all the great villains do in movies." As he talked, Micah slowly turned down the volume of the phone. Then he tentatively pressed the 'talk' button, keeping the phone pressed at his thigh and out of sight.  
"Villain?" Jeremiah looked taken aback. "I'm not the villain, my dear boy! It is the _world _that is the villain of this story!" Micah's trembling fingers pressed the buttons in what he hoped was a discreet manner.  
(9)  
"Explain, please," he asked in forced calm. Jeremiah -- or rather, what was _in _Jeremiah -- smiled thinly.  
"They have forgotten the old ways. In doing so, they have forgotten _me, _and they have forgotten my thirst for blood. They have forgotten to appease the corn."  
(1)  
"And they have sinned against you," Micah said helpfully.  
(1)  
"Precisely." Jeremiah flashed another all-teeth/no-eyes smile. "And you can stop dialing for help, young Micah. They cannot help you."  
(oh god)  
He reached down and plucked the phone from Micah's shaking hands.  
"Naughty," the boy chuckled, and a voice could be heard from the reciever.  
"Hello," it said distantly. "911, what is your emergency?"  
"Nothing you can help," he said cheerfully, and pressed 'talk'. The voice was silenced.  
(oh _god _it's _him)_  
"I'm disappointed, Micah. You should know that I will not be defeated so easily." Jeremiah shook his head with a sad smile. "Poor misguided Micah. My sheep that has strayed from the path." He dropped the phone on the floor and -- before Micah's horrified eyes -- calmly smashed it beneath his foot. "There is much to do, little sheep."  
  
"You're him," Micah said in a hoarse whisper, and Jeremiah chuckled.  
"I am the One, I am the Beast, I am the Leader of Salvation, I am Nothing, I am _Everything_..."  
(he who walks behind the rows)  
Jeremiah stepped closer.  
"But Micah, my child -- it is not who _I _am that matters. It is who _you _are."  
"Me?" His voice was a tiny, terrified squeak. It sounded horribly weak to his ears, but it didn't seem all that important for the moment. Jeremiah grabbed Micah harshly by the neck, aggravating the soon-to-be bruises and making him cry out.  
"You, Micah--" Jeremiah lifted him from the chair and let his stumps of legs dangle inches above the seat. "--you are my Chosen, you are the Word, you are the Giver of my Way, and _you_--" He smiled, face writhing and twisting once again. "--_you _look as good a vessel as any. Let me in, Micah."  
(no)  
Jeremiah's face distorted violently; his confidence wavered.  
"Insubordinate, blasphemous _fool! _Let me _in!"_  
(NO)  
Micah kicked helplessly, tears streaming from his eyes. He was frightened, he was _terrified, _and his neck hurt so badly... but he wouldn't give in. He had given in before, he had surrendered, and lives had been lost to pay for it. And he knew very well whose life hung in the balance _this _time. Gabe's.  
_"You are nothing without me!" _ Jeremiah was looking more than a little nervous -- if you could call that thing before him Jeremiah. Its face was awful, disgusting, warped, hideous... and losing confidence. _"LET ME IN!"_  
(!!NO!!)  
Micah pulled back, summoned up all the saliva he had left in his mouth, and spat right in the vile face.  
  
And that was the last thing he remembered before it all went black.   
  
He woke up in a cage. Micah let out a miserable groan and shuddered convulsively. There was so much pain, so _much pain... _  
(oh god oh god this hurts)  
It was a long moment before he realized that he wasn't alone.  
_Young Micah. I had forgotten what a worthy craft you are.  
_He curled into a ball and sobbed quietly. He was too tired and too sore and too worn out to fight anymore.  
("What do you want?")  
_The loss of your legs will make things a bit more difficult... but it will aid us as well.  
_Micah sobbed again, feeling horribly alone in his cage.  
("Just leave me alone.")  
He couldn't see the Beast, and he couldn't see exactly where _he _was either.  
_Micah. Micah. Love has made you soft. You used to be such an eager follower._  
Micah shuddered hard. It was dark, it was cold, it was empty... and all he wanted right now was for Gabe to hold him and tell him everything was going to be all right.  
_Put the girl out of your mind. She will serve a purpose as well.  
_He didn't know how the Beast knew what he was thinking, but it made him feel horribly violated.  
("Please, please... just leave us alone. Go find another vessel.")  
_No, no, no. Micah, you must be strong! Stop being a weak little sinner and be STRONG!  
_Micah sobbed and grasped the bars of his cage.  
("Where am I? Tell me that much!")  
_Nowhere you're not familiar with. Don't you remember, Micah?  
_He shook his head, feeling tears slip down his cheeks.  
("No, no! Just tell me, get me out, something! I hate it here!")  
_The very depths of your mind, Micah. The bowels of your conciousness. I'm afraid I can't trust you this time... Therefore, I must keep you caged. I don't trust you to be as easily molded as before.  
_Micah shuddered again, the memories flooding in like a rush of muddy, disgusting water.  
("Why are you doing this?!")  
_Jeremy had to be caged as well. He was soft as clay at first, puddy in my hands, but he grew stronger. He couldn't be trusted either._  
It was bringing back a lot more than he wanted to remember. The Beast, the One, the Leader of Salvation... he was in control.  
_The Lord can be very cruel, young Micah. He has been known to cast down his own angels -- his own followers -- and turn them against him. They are the Fallen, my son._  
Micah sobbed helplessly.  
("Please, please, I hurt so much. Let me go, let me out, please...")  
But the Beast went on calmly.  
_In a way, that is what I do. I cast down the angels of the bodies needed to spread my word. They become the Fallen until I have worked my way. And you, Micah--  
_He sobbed again, the pain eating away at him.  
("It hurts, please, stop...")  
_--you are now the Fallen._


	10. Caged

--Blah blah. Don't own CotC or Micah. Own Gabe, Jeremiah, and Edith. ...hope it's not too confusing. Oh, and by the way... I call him 'the Beast' because 'He Who Walks Behind The Rows' takes _way _too much time to type. Okay, onward!--_  
  
So callous where my mind stays  
But it's not my state of mind  
I'm not as ugly sad as you  
Or am I origami  
Folded up and just pretend  
Demented as the motives in your head  
--_from _Inside Out _by Eve 6_  
  
_Micah curled into a ball in his mental cage, tears rolling silently down his cheeks.  
("What are you going to do?")  
The Beast, having finally mastered Micah's body, flexed his hands experimentally.  
_Do not worry, young Micah. I will see to it that you can watch everything that happens. After all... without you, none of this could be possible.  
_Micah sobbed and didn't respond.  
_Oh. Poor child. Would you like to see your little heartthrob?  
_He sat up straight, suddenly and fully worried.  
("What do you want with Gabe?")  
The Beast smiled with Micah's lips.  
"Oh, you'll see," he murmured, and wheeled the chair into the living room. Gabe would be home fifteen minutes later.  
  
The door slammed. It was a distant sound, but even trapped in his own mind, Micah could hear it. He sat up in his cage.  
("Gabe?")  
The Beast turned his wheelchair around towards the kitchen, where Gabe had disappeared.  
_On with the show.  
_He gave the wheels a push and headed towards the girl. She was digging through the cabinets with jerky little movements of anger; it was plain to see that even though her heart had forgiven Micah, her mind needed to be alerted of this fact.  
("You leave her alone, you son of a bitch.")  
The Beast smirked inwardly, and Micah shuddered.  
_You are in no position to call me names, my dear boy.  
_He wheeled a little closer to Gabe, who didn't give him a second glance.  
_You're on, child. Make me proud.  
_And all of a sudden, he was free. Micah gasped at the release and did the first thing he knew to do-- he tried to warn her.  
"Gabe!" It was a cry of anguish, pain, immovable sorrow.  
_Perfect.  
_Gabe whirled at the tone of his voice. It was another sudden change -- Micah was back in his cage.  
("No, wait! I didn't even get to--")  
_You have served your purpose.  
_And then he understood. The Beast had only let him go to lure Gabe.  
_She can't turn away a soul in need. You said so yourself._  
Micah let out a growl of mixed pain and anger. He hadn't helped, only brought Gabe closer to doom.  
"Micah?" she said softly, and hopped down from the counter. "What's wrong?"  
"I'm sorry," the Beast said, voice trembling. It was a horrible mockery of Micah's apologies -- and it sounded exactly like him. "I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to hurt you. I was upset--"  
("No, Gabe, don't listen to him!")  
"--when I saw Jeremiah kissing you, I lost my head--"  
("Please, Gabe, _don't!")  
_"--and I just hope to God that you'll forgive me." Gabe stared at him steadily, one brow raised a little. Micah's hopes rose.  
("She can see right through me! She'll know it's not me, not really, she'll see there's something wrong and _then _you'll be in--")  
"Of course," she whispered, and threw her arms around his neck. Micah's heart sank back down to his stomach. The Beast buried his face in Gabe's shoulder with a cruel mockery of Micah's sob.  
"Thank you." He smirked over her shoulder, then pulled away and looked up with a small smile. "I'm so glad." Gabe smiled as well and crossed back to the cabinets.  
"Me too. It was my fault, too-- but let's not talk about this right now. I have to make dinner 'cause Edith's working late. What do you want--" She produced two cans and shook each one. "--Chef Boyardee Ravioli or Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup?"  
"I could think of something better," the Beast said, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Micah, who had retreated meekly back into his cage, now tensed.  
("Don't you touch her. Don't you _dare.")_  
Gabe rolled her eyes and set down one of the cans.  
"Chicken soup it is, then." The Beast rolled the wheelchair towards her and slapped his thigh.  
"Thou hast hit it! Come, sit on me."  
_Shakespeare is quite useful among women, is it not?_  
("Don't you _touch _her.")  
She smirked and turned back to him, knowing what followed.  
"Asses are made to bear, and so are you." Micah rattled the bars of his cage desperately.  
("Gabe, no! Run!")  
The Beast reached out and snagged her wrist, pulling her to him. Gabe stumbled a little, but ended up safely in what was left of his lap.  
"Women are made to bear, and so are you," he said in a low voice.  
_The Taming of the Shrew. Poetic, isn't it?_  
Micah shook the bars again.  
("Let her go!")  
Gabe stuck out her tongue at him, not noticing that he was slipping his hands around her wrists -- or perhaps noticing, but trusting him enough that she didn't mind.  
"No such jade as bear you, if me--" And she stopped, suddenly aware that the Beast _did _have her wrists in his hands, and that he _was _squeezing them rather tightly. "Ow, Micah! Be careful, that hurts!" The Beast smirked darkly and tightened his grip.  
"Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry." Gabe struggled now; she tried to pull her hands away, but he held them tightly.  
"Micah-- Micah, what's gotten into you?" she asked, sounding both surprised and angry. "Stop it-- stop it, that _hurts!"_  
("It's not me, Gabe! It's not me, I swear-- _let go of her, you son of a bitch!")  
_The Beast pulled her closer still, nose to nose with the struggling girl.  
"You're supposed to say 'If I be too waspish, best beware my sting'." Gabe bucked violently, her face twisting as she tried to pull away.  
"You're _hurting _me, Micah! _Stop it!"_ Micah watched helplessly, rattling his bars the best he could.  
("GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER!")  
The Beast chuckled and grinned, a grin that was all teeth and no eyes.  
"Aren't you going to give your little cripple a kiss?" And he pressed his lips to Gabe's, hard and fast. For a moment, the bars of Micah's cage turned red hot with anger -- he almost thought it might break with the force of his rage.  
("YOU FUCKING BASTARD!")  
_Such words. They hurt._  
Gabe made a loud sound of protest and jerked violently, finally breaking free of the Beast's grip.  
"What the hell is your problem?" she cried, stumbling into the counter. The Beast chuckled again and wheeled towards her.  
"Now you're mad at me. I thought you said that all was forgiven." Gabe looked up, and something in her eyes flashed. Micah's cage had cooled down again. He stared at her helplessly.  
("Gabe, please, don't be mad at me... It's not me, really, I swear...")  
"You and your pride," she spat, and stormed from the kitchen.  
  
Micah covered his face with his hands.  
("She hates me.")  
_No, dear boy. She hates me.  
_The Beast tapped his chin thoughtfully, alone now in the kitchen.  
_Which might put a damper on things.  
_Micah looked up, glaring, and suddenly smiled.  
("That's right! If she hates you, she won't even get near you! I've seen Gabe when she's mad! Your plan is ruined now, you...")  
But he trailed off, because the Beast was smirking calmly.  
_You underestimate me, my child.  
_Micah felt a cold chill slither through him.  
("What are you going to do?")  
His voice was weak, because he was almost sure he knew.  
_I can try to convince her to see things my way. Or--  
_There was a horrible feeling that suddenly shot through Micah. It was like a hand being plunged inside his heart, a sense of something being terribly, terribly violated. The Beast was digging through his memories.  
_--or we can try something you suggested yourself._  
His own voice echoed through his head, cold and calm and stony.  
_"Cut out her tongue and carve out her heart."_  
Micah felt a violent shudder run through him.  
("No, no, please--")  
_Sound familiar?  
_The Beast wheeled slowly towards the living room. Gabe wasn't there; she was in her room.  
_You said it, Micah. Not me.  
_He approached the door quietly.  
("Please, don't, I'm begging you--")  
_Stop it. Mercy does not interest me.  
_Micah shook the bars hard.  
("Don't you dare hurt her!")  
_It is her own choice. She will decide her own fate.  
_The Beast took the doorknob and turned.  
_Let's hope she chooses the wisely.  
_


	11. Finishing It

--...I HAVE YOU ALL IN MY POWER! Heh. I'm sure we're all extremely happy about FF.net being fixed. Anywhos... I _finally _got to rent Children of the Corn 2, so don't be surprised if what follows seems more in character. Give me a break -- the last time I saw it was in _May, _and I've written two long fics about it! Moving on. CotC and Micah aren't mine. Gabe, Jeremy, and Edith are. All done, really.--  
  
_I fell to earth  
With dripping wings  
Heavy things  
Won't fly  
--_from _Tonight and the Rest of My Life _by Nina Gordon_  
_  
Micah gave the bars another hard rattle.  
_("You son of a bitch, don't you dare hurt her!")_  
The Beast smirked and pulled the door.  
_That will depend upon--_  
Then he paused. The door didn't open.  
"What?" the Beast murmured, and yanked on the knob. Nothing happened. "The little bitch! She locked me out!" Micah felt a surge of relief.  
("Way to go, Gabe!")  
_Shut up._  
The Beast scowled sourly and pounded on the door.  
"Gabe," he bellowed. "Open up!"  
"No!" Her voice came back sharply. The Beast gave the door another thump.  
"Open the door, Gabe!"  
"NO!" She didn't say anything else; the radio inside was turned up and Everclear blasted through the cracks in the door. The Beast, losing patience, pounded with both fists.  
_"Open the fucking door!"_ Gabe didn't answer. Instead, Everclear kept claiming that A.M. Radio was all they had to listen to way-back-when. Micah didn't sympathize. "Ah, damn," the Beast hissed, and gave the door a rather savage pound with his fist. He whirled the wheelchair around and smothered a yawn beneath his hand.  
_That's all right. I'll just wait here. This weak human body requires sleep.  
_He slowly backed the wheelchair against the door with a dull thump.  
_When she opens the door, I'll wake up.  
_("Gabe will find another way.")  
Micah was feeling immensely relieved. She was just as smart as he'd thought -- and smarter than the Beast had anticipated.  
_Shut up.  
_The Beast yawned again and settled back in the wheelchair.  
_This chair isn't very comfortable. But -- I'm sure that my night will be much more comfortable than yours.  
_Micah shifted uncomfortably in his cold cage.  
("I hate it here.")  
He rubbed at his tearstained face and sighed.  
("It's even worse than last time.")  
_You've been more difficult than last time. It is a punishment._  
The Beast's eyelids drifted closed.  
_Mmn. Sleep calls to me, Micah my child. I will be pleased to greet with you in the morning.  
_A smirk pulled at Micah's stolen lips.  
_Sweet dreams._  
  
When Micah finally woke up, he wasn't sure if he was in a dream or not. He thought he wasn't -- he had just woken up, after all -- but something felt... _wrong. _What, he couldn't be sure yet.  
  
That was when he realized that -- even as his mind had been caged -- his body was unable to move as well.  
  
The Beast discovered this fact at the same time.  
("What did you do?")  
_...I did NOTHING!  
_The Beast jerked violently, pulling at his bondage -- which happened to be a piece of electrical wire and an old jump rope.  
"What the hell?" he murmured, and gave the restraints another yank. Micah shifted uncomfortably in his mental cage.  
("Should I be worried?")  
_Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!  
_The Beast bucked violently. It appeared that he was tied to a rickety old bed, something that should've been discontinued in the '40s.  
_"Gabe!" _the Beast bellowed. "Gabe, what the hell is going on?" Shadows shifted threateningly; the beam of a flashlight slid into view.  
"You should ask Gabe that when she gets here." The light passed briefly over a face -- it was Jeremiah. Or, perhaps, Jeremy.  
("...I still don't know if I should be worried...")  
The young man turned off the flashlight for a moment. The room was plunged into darkness for a moment before a match sprung a flame to life. It was lowered to a candle, then shaken and blown out. A dim glow filled the room.  
"That's better."  
"What the _hell--" _repeated the Beast, and bucked violently again. Jeremy smiled, somewhat disturbingly, and disappeared around a corner.  
"Oh, you remember me," he said quietly, his voice moving as he walked. "You lived with me for nearly 5 months, you filthy bastard." Micah's heart soared.  
("He _knows!")_  
"I don't know what you're talking about." The Beast struggled against his bonds. "Gabe won't be happy to see this--"  
"If I have my way, she won't see it at all." Jeremy reappeared around the corner, smiling again. "She's been through too much already." The tone of his voice was slightly unnerving, but Micah kept his high hopes.  
("He _knows, _you son of a bitch! You're going down now!")  
_If I go, I'm taking you with me.  
_Jeremy dug around in an old box.  
"Where are we?" the Beast asked, somewhat nervously. Jeremy answered absently.  
"Grimm Defeat." He bent to see better into the box. "I snuck in through one of the windows and pulled you out while you were asleep."  
("Good move!")  
Micah pumped a fist in the air, but the Beast gave him a sharp mental blow and he fell silent.  
"Let me go," the Beast said in a low voice. "Or you will face the consequences. And believe me -- nothing can prepare you for your punishment." Jeremy's calm expression didn't even flicker. He found what he was looking for and pulled it out, straightening. It was a long, dull-looking knife. Micah's confidence wavered.  
("Oh... oh, no, that's not good at all.")  
_Shut UP!_  
"Put it down, Jeremy," the Beast murmured. "You don't know what you're doing."  
"I know _exactly _what I'm doing," Jeremy hissed, and Micah felt a strong sense of deja-vu.  
("Woah... put it down, Jeremy. Listen to him. He knows what he's talking about!")  
_SHUT UP!_  
The Beast, very suddenly, began struggling wildly.  
_"Blasphemous, weak little sinner! Release me at once or face the fires of eternal Hell!"_  
"Oh, shut up," Jeremy muttered, and moved closer. Micah felt panicked, too; he searched his cage for a way out. Any way out.  
("This is not good, this is _very _not good...")  
Jeremy pressed the dull edge of the knife to the Beast's throat.  
("That's my throat, too...")  
"You won't hurt anyone ever again," he hissed, and jerked the knife upwards.  
  
_"What are you doing?!"  
  
_Gabe's voice startled them all. Jeremy's hand slipped; Micah and the Beast got off with only a nick under the chin.  
_"What are you doing?" _she repeated, stumbling closer. Jeremy moved his knife hand back to the throat.  
"I'm saving his soul." Gabe pressed her palm to her forehead and hurried to Jeremy's side.  
"Don't you touch him, you little--" She reached up and pulled his hand away from the Beast's throat. "Save his soul my ass!"  
"Gabe," Jeremy gasped, struggling. She had him firmly by the wrist, and he wasn't going anywhere. "You can't let him go, you _can't, _he'll hurt more people--" Gabe gave his wrist another hard tug.  
"You don't know anything about Micah--"  
_"Gabe!" _Jeremy cried, and pulled away hard. _"That's not Micah!"_  
("Damn straight!")  
Micah shifted in his cage, trying any possible escape routes. So far, he had found none.  
_SILENCE, INSUBORDINATE FOOL! BE STILL, I COMMAND YE!  
_The Beast looked from Jeremy to Gabe, whose blue eyes had gotten very wide.  
"What do you mean?" she asked softly. Jeremy watched the Beast warily, but spoke to Gabe.  
"He's been in me ever since you met Micah. He's been waiting, Gabe, for the right moment -- and I don't know what he is, some kind of demon, but he's _evil--"_ Jeremy pulled against her wrist. "--and you have to let me finish it." Gabe's grip slackened.  
"You mean--" She grasped for words, glancing from Jeremy to what looked to be Micah. "--that's why you've been acting so weird? And that's why he said--"  
"Don't listen to him, Gabe," the Beast whispered.  
("Things would be a lot easier if you didn't sound so damn much like me.")  
_If you say another word--  
_Searing pain shot through Micah, and he shut up.  
"Please, he just wants you for himself." The Beast struggled weakly, looking much more helpless than before. "You can't let him hurt me, Gabe."  
"He will only leave when the body is useless." Jeremy's free hand shook Gabe's shoulder, bringing her attention back to him. "He is selfish. He will only release Micah's soul when the body can no longer be used as his vessel." Gabe shook her head slowly, looking from Jeremy to the Beast.  
"If I believed what you said," she said softly, unsurely, "I wouldn't be able to kill him." Jeremy pulled again. She still had his wrist in her hand.  
"That's why I'd do the job for you. Please, Gabe. Micah would want it this way." Micah shifted uncomfortably in his cage.  
("I'm not so sure about that.")  
But it was the only way he would be free, and he knew it. The Beast had only left him in the cornfield to die, because he had thought the body wouldn't make it. It was only a toy to him.  
("Go on, Gabe. Do it now.")  
He cringed in his mental cage and waited.  
"Don't do it, Gabe," the Beast said, sounding more than a little nervous. "Don't do it, don't let him, _please--"_  
Gabe stared at him helplessly, then finally released Jeremy's wrist.  
"Do it quickly," she whispered, and turned away.  
  
The Beast began bucking and struggling violently, screaming curses and obscenities at them.  
"One swift motion to the throat," Jeremy said quietly. Gabe nodded, not looking at him.  
"Just do it fast. Don't let him suffer, please." Micah curled up in his cage and covered his eyes.  
("Yeah. Good idea. I like the concept.")  
_"You'll rot in Hell!" _screamed the Beast, pulling hard on the bonds. Jump ropes were made surprisingly strong these days, Micah noted grimly. _"You'll rot in Hell, and your suffering will never end!"_  
"Do it now!" Gabe cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "Do it now, I can't listen to this!" Jeremy lowered the knife to the Beast's throat.  
"Suffer the children," he whispered, and gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah right." There was a moment of silence; the Beast had stopped screaming, Gabe was saying nothing, and Jeremy didn't move.  
("What's going on?")  
Micah shifted uncomfortably. The Beast looked up at Jeremy with Micah's eyes and grinned.  
"You don't have the guts," he said softly. "You know what you have to do, but you can't do it because you can't hurt your friend. _You don't have the guts." _Jeremy stared back in silence. Another long period went by without any words. Micah grasped the bars of his cage.  
("Go on, run. Run like you did before, you coward. You didn't seem to have this much confidence in the cornfield.")  
The Beast didn't respond. Jeremy didn't move.  
"I can't do it, Gabe," he whispered, and started to drop the knife.  
  
Gabe grabbed it from him.  
  
"If you won't do it," she said softly, "then I will." The blade went to the Beast's neck for the third time. He seemed fully confident now.  
"If there's anyone who won't spill this boy's blood," the Beast snarled, "it's you, girl. Don't fool yourself. Put it down and untie me." Gabe stared back, tears stinging her eyes. She didn't seem to notice them.  
"Goodbye, Micah." She paused, then added, "I'm sorry." And, in one fluent motion, she slid the blade across his throat.  
  



	12. God's Plan

--All done! Still don't own CotC or Micah. Own Gabe, Jeremy, and Edith. Songs property of the owners listed. That was fun! Give me feedback, and let me know if you want a third! ...trilogies are fun!--  
  
_In the arms of the angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark, cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
In the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here  
--_from _Angel _by Sarah McLachlan_  
_  
_He was back in the cornfield.  
"Mordecai," he called unsurely, waving the beam of his flashlight around. "Jedediah, where are you?" He pushed through the corn nervously. "Come on, this isn't funny! Where _are _you?" He walked a little farther, feeling his confidence bend a little more. The corn was unnerving all by itself, and if he stayed out here much longer, his warped bravery was sure to snap. "Guys?" he said slowly. "Where are you?" A noise reached his ears, just a trace of it. A cry of pain, a moan of agony, a scream that came from someone who should've been long dead. He whirled and brandished the beam of his flashlight like a weapon, trying to stay calm. "Are you there?" Nothing answered. The corn waved eerily back and forth in the breeze. He swallowed the lump in his throat and moved closer towards the noise. "Mordecai?" he said weakly, but he knew it wasn't Mordecai.  
("Come to me, my child.")  
The voice was terrible, echoing through his mind and tearing at things as it went.  
("Isaac has failed me, and now you must take his place.")  
He couldn't move for a moment, because the hideous thing was heading towards him. Finally, he found his voice and feet -- and ran.  
"No!" He stumbled through the corn, running desperately. Running like a coward. But that face, and that voice...  
("Come see the truth, my child.")  
"No! No!" He staggered and found himself facing the monster, falling backwards into the corn. But the corn wouldn't protect him, that was for sure. "NO! Help!" It towered above him, tall and hideous and powerful -- and it smiled.  
("You are my chosen. Come. There is much work to do.")  
He waited for the searing pain, for the white-hot light and the unbearable noise. Nothing came. Instead, he heard a voice -- Gabe's.  
"Leave." The thing hesitated over him, one vile hand outstretched.  
("The boy is mine. This is none of your affair.")  
He looked around wildly for the source of Gabe's voice, but didn't see anything.  
"Gabe?" he said weakly, and the thing moved closer.  
("Silence. There is no hope for you now.")  
"Speak not of what you know nothing about." Gabe's voice was louder and more forceful, but he still couldn't see where she was. "He is not yours to claim." The thing trembled in rage -- or perhaps fear -- or maybe both.  
("He is mine! Take your meddling elsewhere!")  
"Gabe," he tried again, and her voice was closer.  
"Silence, child." The beam of his flashlight flickered and finally went out. The cornfield was plunged into darkness, but only for a moment; something was glowing dimly. He looked down and saw it.  
  
The angel necklace.  
  
It glowed with a soft golden light, and it was an even bigger surprise when the angel's lips moved and Gabe's voice came out of them.  
"He is not yours to claim," she repeated. "Stop this and go back to Hell where you belong." The thing took a step back, but its disgusting lip was curled into a sneer. It might be losing, but it wouldn't admit it.  
"My mark is on him, very clearly--"  
"Your mark means nothing in the eyes of God." The angel glowed a little brighter, and the thing took another step back. "Release the boy and leave this place."  
("NO! This is MY land, these are MY children, and you WILL NOT--")  
"God commands it," Gabe's voice said quietly. The thing stumbled backwards, disappearing into the corn.  
("NO! I will not be defeated so easily!")  
"Step down." The angel lifted the horn to its lips and blew, one long and beautiful note. The thing screamed, turned tail, and ran. He was feeling relieved now, weak with relief -- or perhaps just weak. Gabe's voice was in his ear now. "God has a plan for you, Micah. And it is not to be used as a tool for the Evil One. Return to us, child. Return and reclaim your temple as your own."  
  
_ His eyes drifted open very, very slowly.  
(I'm dead)  
The figures and shadows around him shifted threateningly.  
(Gabe killed me I'm dead)  
"Micah?" whimpered a voice, and he blinked.  
(aren't I?)  
The hands that had been on his shoulders moved to his face, probing for injuries.  
"Micah, please, you're awake -- aren't you?" It was Gabe. One long moment went by before Micah felt a hard shudder rack his body. And then, for the first time in what seemed ages, he moved.  
"Gabe?" The word came out in a choke as he shot forward, and arms folded around him immediately.  
"You're awake," Gabe gasped. "You're okay."  
"I'm alive," he murmured, somewhat confusedly. She didn't answer; the girl hugged him tightly and pressed her face into his shoulder. Micah let himself be embraced, dully noting that he wasn't tied up anymore. "I don't understand. Didn't you--"  
"She used the wrong side," Jeremy said quietly. Micah glanced at him over Gabe's shoulder. The boy demonstrated with the knife, running his thumb over the opposite side of the blade. "The demon panicked. He left quickly."  
"You've been sleeping for almost an hour," Gabe said, voice thick with tears. Micah suddenly realized how long it had been since she had held him. He buried his face in her shoulder and didn't say anything. "If I hadn't been so nervous," she whispered, stroking his hair gently, "I would've killed you, Micah. I would've had the knife the right way, I would've killed you, and your throat would've--"  
"You saved me," Micah said softly. "In my dream, you saved me. And you saved me here, too." Jeremy shifted in the background; he tossed the knife back into the box he'd dug it out of.  
"Let's get out of here. This place looks like it could fall apart any second."  
"You go ahead, Jer." Gabe pulled away from Micah a bit and smiled weakly. "You've had a rough... 4 months. Go sleep."  
"I think... I will," Jeremy said, and scratched his head idly. "No hard feelings, Micah?"  
"Nah," he muttered to Gabe's shoulder. Jeremy grinned, somewhat sadly, and loped out the front door.  
  
"Promise me something." Gabe's voice was quiet and warm in his ear. "Promise me something, Micah." He leaned back into her shoulder.  
"Anything," Micah murmured, and let his eyes drift closed. He hadn't realized how immensely tired he was. Sore, too.  
"Promise that you'll never leave." Her hand had made its way back up to his hair. Micah leaned against her shoulder and exhaled deeply.  
"I promise." Then he paused and opened his eyes, looking up. "I love you, Gabe." The girl looked surprised for a split second before she smiled shakily.  
"I love you too," she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.  
(take _that _he who walks behind the rows)  
When he pulled away, Micah let his eyes drift closed again.  
"What if he comes back?" Gabe shook her head and cradled him against her, rocking slowly back and forth.  
"I don't know. But I do know this--" She pressed a kiss against his earlobe and fought a sob. "--the only way he'll take you is over my dead body. And that's _my _promise." Micah let out a soft whimper, nestling into her for comfort.  
"Thank you," he murmured, and surrendered to sleep.  
  
The Beast, having retreated back into the corn, screamed in rage.  
  
But he could scream all he wanted. Because he was no longer in control. There was a higher power at work, and its mark was on both the girl and the boy. Protection -- for now.  
  
And now was all they needed.


End file.
